THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

"Ma"  Crandell 


THE  MISSISSIPPI  BUBBLE 


THE 

MISSISSIPPI 
BUBBLE 


HOW  THE  STAR  OF  GOOD  FORTUNE  ROSE 
AND  SET  AND  ROSE  AGAIN,  BY  A  WOMAN'S 
GRACE,  FOR  ONE  JOHN  LAW  o/LAURISTON 

A  NOVEL  by  EMERSON  HOUGH 

THE  ILLUSTRATIONS  by  HENRY  HUTT 


The    BOWEN-MERRILL    COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS,     INDIANAPOLIS 


COPYRIGHT  NINETEEN  HUNDRED  Two 

EMERSON  HOUGH 

APRIL 


All  Rights  Reserved 


PRESS  OF 

BRAUN WORTH   &  CO. 

BOOKBINDERS  AND   PRINTERS 

BROOKLYN.   N.  Y. 


?s 

3515 

HBI  ml 

I  3  o  ^ 

Cop.    2. 


TO 

L.  C.  H. 


1451622 


CONTENTS 


BOOK  I 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I    THE  RETURNED  TRAVELER  3 

II    AT  SADLER'S  WELLS  12 

III  JOHN  LAW  OF  LAURISTON  22 

IV  THE  POINT  OF  HONOR  28 
V    DIVERS  EMPLOYMENTS  OF  JOHN  LAW  44 

VI    THE  RESOLUTION  OF  MR.  LAW  60 

VII    TWO  MAIDS  A-BROIDERING  66 

VIII    CATHARINE  KNOLLYS  78 

IX    IN  SEARCH  OF  THE  QUARREL  87 

X    THE  RUMOR  OF  THE  QUARREL  92 

XI    AS  CHANCE  DECREED  98 

XII    FOR  FELONY  104 

XIII  THE  MESSAGE  113 

XIV  PRISONERS  120 
XV    IF  THERE  WERE  NEED  129 

XVI    THE  ESCAPE  143 

XVII    WHITHER  153 


CONTEXTS 
BOOK  II 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I    THE  DOOR  OF  THE  WEST  161 

II    THE  STORM  170 

III  AU  LARGE  178 

IV  THE  PATHWAY  OF  THE  WATERS  186 
V    MESSASEBE  194 

VI    MAIZE  203 

VII    THE  BRINK  OF  CHANGE  212 

VIII    TOUS  SAUVAGES  218 

IX    THE  DREAM  230 

X    BY  THE  HILT  OF  THE  SWORD  235 

XI    THE  IROQUOIS  240 

XII    PRISONERS  OF  THE  IROQUOIS  249 

XIII  THE  SACRIFICE  258 

XIV  THE  EMBASSY  266 
XV    THE  GREAT  PEACE  279 

BOOK  III 

I    THE  GRAND  MONARQUE  296 

II    EVER  SAID  SHE  NAY  804 

III    SEARCH  THOU  MY  HEART  316 


CONTEXTS 

CHAPTEB  PAGE 

IV    THE  REGENT'S  PROMISE  324 

V    A  DAY  OF  MIRACLES  388 

VI    THE  GREATEST  NEED  350 

VII    THE  MIRACLE  UNWROUGHT  357 

VIII    THE  LITTLE  SUPPER  OF  THE  REGENT  366 

IX    THE  NEWS  394 

X    MASTER  AND  MAN  400 

XI    THE  BREAKING  OF  THE  BUBBLE  421 

XII    THAT  WHICH  REMAINED  428 

XIII    THE  QUALITY  OF  MERCY  448 


BOOK  I 
ENGLAND 


THE  MISSISSIPPI  BUBBLE 

CHAPTER  I 

THE   RETURNED   TRAVELER 

"Gentlemen,  this  is  America !" 

The  speaker  cast  upon  the  cloth-covered  table  a 
singular  object,  whose  like  none  of  those  present  had 
ever  seen.  They  gathered  about  and  bent  over  it 
curiously. 

"This  is  that  America,"  the  speaker  repeated. 
"Here  you  have  it,  barbaric,  wonderful,  abounding !" 

With  sudden  gesture  he  swept  his  hand  among 
the  gold  coin  that  lay  on  the  gaming  table.  He 
thrust  into  the  mouth  of  the  object  before  him  a 
handful  of  louis  d'or  and  English  sovereigns.  "There 
is  your  America,"  said  he.  "It  runs  over  with  gold. 
No  man  may  tell  its  richness.  Its  beauty  you  can 
not  imagine." 

"Faith,"  said  Sir  Arthur  Pembroke,  bending  over 
the  table  with  glass  in  eye,  "if  the  ladies  of  that  land 
have  feet  for  this  sort  of  shoon,  methinks  we  might 
(3) 


4  THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

well  emigrate.  Take  you  the  money  of  it.  For  me, 
I  would  see  the  dame  could  wear  such  shoe  as  this." 

One  after  another  this  company  of  young  English 
men,  hard  players,  hard  drinkers,  gathered  about  the 
table  and  bent  over  to  examine  the  little  shoe.  It 
was  an  Indian  moccasin,  cut  after  the  fashion  of  the 
Abenakis,  from  the  skin  of  the  wild  buck,  fashioned 
large  and  full  for  the  spread  of  the  foot,  covered 
deep  with  the  stained  quills  of  the  porcupine,  and 
dotted  here  and  there  with  the  precious  beads  which, 
to  the  maker,  had  more  worth  than  any  gold.  A 
little  flap  came  up  for  cover  to  the  ankle,  and  a 
thong  fell  from  its  upper  edge.  It  was  the  ancient 
foot-covering  of  the  red  race  of  America,  made  for 
the  slight  but  effectual  protection  of  the  foot,  while 
giving  perfect  freedom  to  the  tread  of  the  wearer. 
Light,  dainty  and  graceful,  its  size  was  much  less 
than  that  of  the  average  woman's  shoe  of  that  time 
and  place. 

<fBah !  Pembroke,"  said  Castleton,  pushing  up  the 
shade  above  his  eyes  till  it  rested  on  his  forehead, 
"'tis  a  child's  shoe." 

"Not  so,"  said  the  first  speaker.  "I  give  you  my 
word  'tis  the  moccasin  of  my  sweetheart,  a  princess 
in  her  own,  right,  who  waits  my  coming  on  the  Ot 
tawa.  And  so  far  from  the  shoe  being  too  small, 
I  say  as  a  gentleman  that  she  not  only  wore  it  so, 


THE    RETURNED    TRAVELER  5 

but  in  addition  used  somewhat  of  grass  therein  in 
place  of  hose." 

The  earnestness  of  this  speech  in  no  wise  pre 
vented  the  peal  of  laughter  that  followed. 

"There  you  have  it,  Pembroke,"  cried  Castleton. 
"Would  you  move  to  a  land  where  princesses  use  hay 
for  hosiery  ?" 

"'Tis  curious  done,"  said  Pembroke,  musingly, 
"none  the  less." 

"And  done  by  her  own  hand,"  said  the  owner  of 
the  shoe,  with  a  certain  proprietary  pride. 

Again  the  laughter  broke  out.  "Do  your  prin 
cesses  engage  in  shoemaking?"  asked  a  third  game 
ster  as  he  pushed  into  the  ring.  "Sure  it  must  be 
a  rare  land.  Prithee,  what  doth  the  king  in  handi 
craft  ?  Doth  he  take  to  saddlery,  or,  perhaps,  smith 
ing?" 

"Have  done  thy  jests,  Wilson,"  cried  Pembroke. 
"Mayhap  there  is  somewhat  to  be  learned  here  of  this 
New  World  and  of  our  dear  cousins,  the  French.  Go 
on,  tell  us,  Monsieur  du  Mesne — as  I  think  you  call 
yourself,  sir? — tell  us  more  of  your  new  country  of 
ice  and  snow,  of  princesses  and  little  shoes." 

The  original  speaker  went  a  bit  sullen,  what  with 
his  wine  and  the  jests  of  his  companions.  "I'll  tell 
ye  naught,"  said  he.  "Go  see  for  yourselves,  by 
leave  of  Louis." 


6  THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

"Come  now/'  said  Pembroke,  conciliatingly.  "We'll 
all  admit  our  ignorance.  'Tis  little  we  know  of  our 
own  province  of  Virginia,  save  that  Virginia  is  a 
land  of  poverty  and  tobacco.  Wealth — faith,  if  ye 
have  wealth  in  your  end  of  the  continent,  'tis  time 
we  English  fought  ye  for  it." 

"Methinks  you  English  are  having  enough  to  do 
here  close  at  home,"  sneered  Du  Mesne.  "I  have 
heard  somewhat  of  Steinkirk,  and  how  ye  ran  from 
the  half -dressed  gentlemen  of  France." 

Dark  looks  followed  this  bold  speech,  which  cut 
but  too  closely  to  the  quick  of  English  pride.  Pem 
broke  quelled  the  incipient  outcry  with  calmer 
speech. 

"Peace,  friends,"  said  he.  "'Tis  not  arms  we 
argue  here,  after  all.  We  are  but  students  at  the  feet 
of  Monsieur  du  Mesne,  who  hath  returned  from 
foreign  parts.  Prithee,  sir,  tell  us  more." 

"Tell  ye  more — and  if  I  did,  would  ye  believe 
it  ?  What  if  I  tell  ye  of  great  rivers  far  to  the  west 
of  the  Ottawa;  of  races  as  strange  to  my  princess's 
people  as  we  are  to  them;  of  streams  whose  sands 
run  in  gold,  where  diamonds  and  sapphires  are  to 
be  picked  up  as  ye  like?  If  I  told  ye,  would  ye 
believe  ?" 

The  martial  hearts  and  adventurous  souls  of  the 
circle  about  him  began  to  show  in  the  heightened 


THE    RETURNED    TRAVELER  7 

color  and  closer  crowding  of  the  young  men  to  the 
table.     Silence  fell  upon  the  group. 

"Ye  know  nothing,  in  this  old  rotten  world,  of 
what  there  is  yet  to  be  found  in  America,"  cried  Du 
Mesne.  "For  myself,  I  have  been  no  farther  than 
the  great  falls  of  the  Ontoneagrea — a  mere  trifle  of 
a  cataract,  gentlemen,  into  which  ye  might  pitch 
your  tallest  English  cathedral  and  sink  it  beyond  its 
pinnacle  with  ease.  Yet  I  have  spoke  with  the 
holy  fathers  who  have  journeyed  far  to  the  westward, 
even  to  the  vast  Messasebe,  which  is  well  known  to 
run  into  the  China  sea  upon  some  far-off  coast  not 
yet  well  charted.  I  have  also  read  the  story  of 
Sagean,  who  was  far  to  the  west  of  that  mighty 
river.  Did  not  the  latter  see  and  pursue  and  kill 
in  fair  fight  the  giant  unicorn,  fabled  of  Scripture? 
Is  not  that  animal  known  to  be  a  creature  of  the 
East,  and  may  we  not,  therefore,  be  advised  that  this 
new  country  takes  hold  upon  the  storied  lands  of 
the  East  ?  Why,  this  holy  friar  with  whom  I  spoke, 
fresh  back  from  his  voyaging  to  the  cold  upper  ways 
of  the  Northern  tribes,  who  live  beyond  the  far-off 
channel  at  Michilimackinac — did  he  not  tell  of  a 
river  of  the  name  of  the  Blue  Earth,  and  did  he  not 
himself  see  turquoises  and  diamonds  and  emeralds 
taken  in  handfuls  from  this  same  blue  earth?  AH, 
bah !  gentlemen,  Europe  for  you  if  ye  like,  but  for  me, 


8  THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

back  I  go,  so  soon  as  I  may  get  proper  passage  and 
a  connection  which  will  warrant  me  the  voyage. 
Back  I  go  to  Canada,  to  America,  to  the  woods  and 
streams.  I  would  see  again  my  ancient  Du  L'hut, 
and  my  comrade  Pierre  Noir,  and  Tete  Gris,  the 
trapper  from  the  Mistasing — free  traders  all.  Life 
is  there  for  the  living,  my  comrades.  This  Old 
World,  small  and  outworn,  no  more  of  it  for  me." 

"And  why  came  you  back  to  this  little  Old  World  of 
ours,  an  you  loved  the  New  World  so  much?"  asked 
the  cynical  voice  of  him  who  had  been  called  Wil 
son. 

"By  the  body  of  God !"  cried  Du  Mesne,  "think  ye 
I  came  of  my  own  free  will?  Look  here,  and  find 
your  reason."  He  stripped  back  the  opening  of 
his  doublet  and  under  waistcoat,  and  showed  upon 
his  broad  shoulder  the  scar  of  a  red  tri-point,  deep 
and  livid  upon  his  flesh.  "Look !  There  is  the  fleur- 
de-lis  of  France.  That  is  why  I  came.  I  have  rowed 
in  the  galleys,  me — me  a  free  man,  a  man  of  the 
woods  of  New  France !" 

Murmurs  of  concern  passed  among  the  little  group. 
Castleton  rose  from  his  chair  and  leaned  with  his 
hands  upon  the  table,  gazing  now  at  the  face  and 
now  at  the  bared  shoulder  of  this  stranger,  who  had 
by  chance  become  a  member  of  their  nightly  party. 

"I  have  not  been  in  London  a  fortnight  since  my 


THE    RETURNED    TRAVELER  9 

escape/'  said  the  man  with  the  brand.  "I  was  none 
the  less  once  a  good  servant  of  Louis  in  New  France, 
for  that  I  found  many  a  new  tribe  and  many  a  bale 
of  furs  that  else  had  never  come  to  the  Mountain  for 
the  robbery  of  the  lying  officers  who  claim  the  robe 
of  Louis.  I  was  a  soldier  for  the  king  as  well  as  a 
traveler  of  the  forest.  Was  I  not  with  the  Le  Moynes 
and  the  band  that  crossed  the  icy  North  and  de 
stroyed  your  robbing  English  fur  posts  on  the  Bay 
of  Hudson?  I  fought  there  and  helped  blow  down 
your  barriers.  I  packed  my  own  robe  on  my  back, 
and  walked  for  the  king,  till  the  raquette  thongs 
cut  my  ankles  to  the  bone.  For  what?  When  I 
came  back  to  the  settlements  at  Quebec  I  was  seized 
for  a  coureur  de  ~bois,  a  free  trader.  I  was  herded 
like  a  criminal  into  a  French  ship,  sent  over  seas  to 
a  French  prison,  branded  with  a  French  iron,  and 
set  like  a  brute  to  pull  without  reason  at  a  bar  of  wood 
in  the  king's  galleys — the  king's  hell !" 
:  "And  yet  you  are  a  Frenchman,"  sneered  Wilson. 

"Yet  am  I  not  a  Frenchman,"  cried  the  other. 
"Nor  am  I  an  Englishman.  I  am  no  man  of  a  world 
of  galleys  and  brands.  I  am  a  man  of  America !" 

"  'Tis  true  what  he  says,"  spoke  Pembroke.  "  'Tis 
said  the  minister  of  Louis  was  feared  to  keep  these 
men  in  the  galleys,  lest  their  fellows  in  New  France 
should  become  too  bitter,  and  should  join  the  savages 


10  THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

in  their  inroads  on  the  starving  settlements  of  Quebec 
and  Montreal." 

"True,"  exclaimed  Du  Mesne.  "The  coureurs 
care  naught  for  the  law  and  little  for  the  king.  As 
for  a  ruler,  we  have  discovered  that  a  man  makes  a 
most  excellent  sovereign  for  himself." 

"And  excellent  said,"  cried  Castleton. 

"None  of  ye  know  the  West,"  went  on  the  coureur. 
"Your  Virginia,  we  know  well  of  it — a  collection  of 
beggars,  prostitutes  and  thieves.  Your  New  England 
— a  lot  of  cod-fishing,  starving  snivelers,  who  are 
most  concerned  how  to  keep  life  in  their  bodies  from 
year  to  year.  New  France  herself,  sitting  ever  on 
the  edge  of  an  icy  death,  with  naught  but  bickerings 
at  Quebec  and  naught  but  reluctant  compliance  from 
Paris — what  hath  she  to  hope?  I  tell  ye,  gentle 
men,  'tis  beyond,  in  the  land  of  the  Messasebe,  where 
I  shall  for  my  part  seek  out  my  home;  and  no  man 
shall  set  iron  on  my  soul  again." 

He  spoke  bitterly.  The  group  about  him,  half 
amused,  half  cynical  and  all  ignorant,  as  were  their 
kind  at  this  time  of  the  reign  of  William,  were  none 
the  less  impressed  and  thoughtful.  Yet  once  more 
the  sneering  voice  of  Wilson  broke  in. 

"A  strange  land,  my  friend,"  said  he,  "monstrous 
strange.  Your  unicorns  are  great,  and  your  women 


THE    RETURNED    TRAVELER          11 

arc  little.  Methinks  to  give  thy  tale  proportion  thou 
shouldst  have  shown  shoon  somewhat  larger." 

"Peace!  Beau,"  said  Castleton,  quickly.  "As  for 
the  size  of  the  human  foot — gad!  I'll  lay  a  roll  of 
louis  d'or  that  there's  one  dame  here  in  London 
town  can  wear  this  slipper  of  New  France." 

"Done !"  cried  Wilson.     "Name  the  one." 

"None  other  than  the  pretty  Lawrence  whom  thou 
hast  had  under  thine  ancient  wing  for  the  past  two 
seasons." 

The  face  of  Wilson  gathered  into  a  sudden  frown 
at  this  speech.  "What  doth  it  matter" — he  began. 

"Have  done,  fellows!"  cried  Pembroke  with  some 
asperity.  "Lay  wagers  more  fit  at  best,  and  let  us 
have  no  more  of  this  thumb-biting.  Gad!  the  first 
we  know,  we'll  be  up  for  fighting  among  ourselves, 
and  we  all  know  how  the  new  court  doth  look  on 
that." 

"Come  away,"  laughed  Castleton,  gaily.  "I'm  for 
a  pint  of  ale  and  an  apple ;  and  then  beware !  'Tis 
always  my  fortune,  when  I  come  to  this  country 
drink,  to  win  like  a  very  countryman.  I  need  re 
venge  upon  Lady  Betty  and  her  lap-dog.  I've  lost 
since  ever  I  saw  them  last." 


CHAPTEK  II 
AT  SADLER'S  WELLS 

Sadler's  Wells,  on  this  mild  and  cheery  spring 
morning,  was  a  scene  of  fashion  and  of  folly. 
Hither  came  the  elite  of  London,  after  the  custom  of 
the  day,  to  seek  remedy  in  the  reputed  qualities  of 
the  springs  for  the  weariness  and  lassitude  resultant 
upon  the  long  season  of  polite  dissipations  which 
society  demanded  of  her  votaries.  Bewigged  dan 
dies,  their  long  coats  of  colors  well  displayed  as 
they  strutted  about  in  the  open,  paid  court  there, 
as  they  did  within  the  city  gates,  to  the  powdered 
and  painted  beauties  who  sat  in  their  coaches  wait 
ing  for  their  servants  to  bring  out  to  them  the 
draft  of  which  they  craved  healing  for  crow's- 
feet  and  hollow  eyes.  Here  and  there  traveling  mer 
chants  called  their  wares,  jugglers  spread  their 
carpets,  bear  dancers  gave  their  little  spectacles,  and 
jockeys  conferred  as  to  the  merits  of  horse  or  hound. 
Hawk-nosed  Jews  passed  among  the  vehicles,  cursed 
(12) 


AT    SADLER'S    WELLS  13 

or  kicked  by  the  young  gallants  who  stood  about, 
hat  in  hand,  at  the  steps  of  their  idols'  carriages. 

"Buy  my  silks,  pretty  lady,  buy  my  silks !  Fresh 
from  the  Turkey  walk  on  the  Exchange,  and  cheaper 
than  you  can  buy  their  like  in  all  the  city — buy  my 
silks,  lady!"  Thus  the  peddler  with  his  little  pack 
of  finery. 

"My  philter,  lady,"  cried  the  gipsy  woman,  who 
had  left  her  donkey  cart  outside  the  line.  "My 
philter!  'Twill  keep-a  your  eyes  bright  and  your 
cheeks  red  for  ay.  Secret  of  the  Pharaohs,  lady; 
and  but  a  shilling!" 

"Have  ye  a  parrot,  ma'am  ?  Have  ye  never  a  par 
rot  to  keep  ye  free  and  give  ye  laughter  every  hour  ? 
Buy  my  parrot,  lady.  Just  from  the  Gold  •  Coast. 
He'll  talk  ye  Spanish,  Flemish  or  good  city  tongue. 
Buy  my  parrot  at  ten  crowns,  and  so  cheap,  lady!" 
So  spoke  the  ear-ringed  sailor,  who  might  never  have 
seen  a  salter  water  than  the  Thames. 

"Powder-puffs  for  the  face,  lady,"  whispered  a 
lean  and  weazen-faced  hawker,  slipping  among  the 
crowd  with  secrecy.  "See  my  puff,  made  from  the 
foot  of  English  hares.  Eubs  out  all  wrinkles,  lady, 
and  keeps  ye  young  as  when  ye  were  a  lass.  But  a 
shilling,  a  shilling.  See !"  And  with  the  pretense 
of  secrecy  the  seller  would  sidle  up  to  a  carriage 
of  some  dame,  slip  to  her  the  hare's  foot  and  take 


14  THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

the  shilling  with  an  air  as  though  no  one  could  see 
what  none  could  fail  to  notice. 

Above  these  mingled  cries  of  the  hangers-on  of 
this  crowd  of  nobility  and  gentles  rose  the  blare  of 
crude  music,  and  cries  far  off  and  confused.  Above 
it  all  shone  the  May  sun,  brighter  here  than  lower 
toward  the  Thames.  In  the  edge  of  London  town 
it  was,  all  this  little  pageant,  and  from  the  residence 
squares  below  and  far  to  the  westward  came  the 
carriages  and  the  riders,  gathering  at  the  spot  which 
for  the  hour  was  the  designated  rendezvous  of  ca 
pricious  fashion.  No  matter  if  the  tower  at  the 
drinking  curb  was  crowded,  so  that  inmates  of  the 
coaches  could  not  find  way  among  the  others.  There 
was  at-  least  magic  in  the  morning,  even  if  one  might 
not  drink  at  the  chalybeate  spring.  Cheeks  did  in 
deed  grow  rosy,  and  eyes  brightened  under  the  chal 
lenge  not  only  of  the  dawn  but  of  the  ardent  eyes 
that  gazed  impertinently  bold  or  reproachfully  im 
ploring. 

Far-reaching  was  the  line  of  the  gentility,  to  whose 
flanks  clung  the  rabble  of  trade.  Back  upon  the 
white  road  came  yet  other  carriages,  saluted  by  those 
departing.  Low  hedges  of  English  green  reached 
out  into  the  distance,  blending  ultimately  at  the  edge 
of  the  pleasant  sky.  Merry  enough  it  was,  and  glad 
some,  this  spring  day;  for  be  sure  the  really  ill 


AT    SADLER'S    WELLS  15 

did  not  brave  the  long  morning  ride  to  test  the  virtue 
of  the  waters  of  Sadler's  Wells.  It  was  for  the  most 
part  the  young,  the  lively,  the  full-blooded,  perhaps 
the  wearied,  but  none  the  less  the  vital  and  stirring 
natures  which  met  in  the  decreed  assemblage. 

Back  of  Sadler's  little  court  the  country  came 
creeping  close  up  to  the  town.  There  were  fields  not 
so  far  away  on  these  long  highways.  Wandering  and 
rambling  roads  ran  off  to  the  westward  and  to  the 
north,  leading  toward  the  straight  old  Roman  road 
which  once  upon  a  time  ran  down  to  London  town. 
Ill-kept  enough  were  some  of  the  lanes,  with  their 
hedges  and  shrubs  overhanging  the  highways,  if  such 
the  paths  could  be  called  which  came  braiding  down 
toward  the  south.  One  needed  not  to  go  far  outward 
beyond  Sadler's  Wells  of  a  night-time  to  find  adven 
ture,  or  to  lose  a  purse. 

It  was  on  one  of  these  less  crowded  highways 
that  there  was  this  morning  enacted  a  curious 
little  drama.  The  sun  was  still  young  and  not  too 
strong  for  comfort,  and  as  it  rose  back  of  the  square 
of  Sadler's  it  cast  a  shadow  from  a  hedge  which  ran 
angling  toward  the  southeast.  Its  rays,  therefore, 
did  not  disturb  the  slumbers  of  two  young  men 
wEo  were  lying  beneath  the  shelter  of  the  hedge. 
Strange  enough  must  have  been  the  conclusions  of 
the  sun  could  it  have  looked  over  the  barrier  and 


16  THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

peered  into  the  faces  of  these  youths.  Evidently 
they  were  of  good  breeding  and  some  station,  albeit 
their  garb  was  not  of  the  latest  fashion.  The  gray 
hose  and  clumsy  shoes  would  have  bespoken  some 
northern  residence.  The  wig  of  each  lacked  the 
latest  turn,  perhaps  the  collar  of  the  coat  was  not 
all  it  should  have  been.  There  was  but  one  coat 
visible,  for  the  other,  rolled  up  as  a  pillow,  served 
to  support  the  heads  of  both.  The  elder  of  the  two 
was  the  one  who  had  sacrificed  his  covering.  The 
other  was  more  restless  in  his  attitude,  and  though 
thus  the  warmer  for  a  coat,  was  more  in  need  of 
comfort.  A  white  bandage  covered  his  wrist,  and 
the  linen  was  stained  red.  Yet  the  two  slept  on, 
well  into  the  morn,  well  into  the  rout  of  Sadler's 
Wells.  Evidently  they  were  weary. 

The  elder  man  was  the  taller  of  the  two ;  as  he  lay 
on  the  bank  beneath  the  hedge,  he  might  even  in  that 
posture  have  been  seen  to  own  a  figure  of  great 
strength  and  beauty.  His  face,  bold  of  outline,  with 
well  curved,  wide  jaw  and  strong  cheek  bones,  was 
shaded  by  the  tangled  mat  of  his  wig,  tousled  in  his 
sleep.  His  hands,  long  and  graceful,  lay  idly  at 
his  side,  though  one  rested  lightly  on  the  hilt  of 
the  sword  which  lay  near  him.  The  ruffles  of  his 
shirt  were  torn,  and,  indeed,  had  almost  disappeared. 
By  study  one  might  have  recognized  them  in  the 


AT    SADLEK'S    WELLS  17 

bandage  about  the  hand  of  the  other.  Somewhat 
disheveled  was  this  youth,  yet  his  young,  strong  body, 
slender  and  shapely,  seemed  even  in  its  rest  strangely 
full  of  power  and  confidence. 

The  younger  man  was  in  some  fashion  an  epitome 
of  the  other,  and  it  had  needed  little  argument  to 
show  the  two  were  brothers.  But  why  should  two 
brothers,  well-clad  and  apparently  well-to-do,  prob 
ably  brothers  from  a  country  far  to  the  north,  be 
thus  lying  like  common  vagabonds  beneath  an 
English  hedge? 

Far  down  the  roadway  there  rose  a  cloud  of  dust, 
which  came  steadily  nearer,  following  the  only  ve 
hicle  in  sight,  probably  the  only  one  which  had  passed 
that  morning.  As  this  little  dust-cloud  came  slowly 
nearer  it  might  have  been  seen  to  rise  from  the 
wheels  of  a  richly-built  and  well-appointed  coach. 
Four  dark  horses  obeyed  the  reins  handled  by  a  sol- 
emn-visaged  lackey  on  the  box,  and  there  was  a  goodly 
footman  at  the  back.  Within  the  coach  were  two  pas 
sengers  such  as  might  have  set  Sadler's  Wells  by 
the  ears.  They  sat  on  the  same  seat,  as  equals, 
and  their  heads  lay  close  together,  as  confidantes. 
The  tongues  of  both  ran  fast  and  free.  Long  gloves 
covered  the  arms  of  these  beauties,  and  their  cos 
tumes  showed  them  to  be  of  station.  The  crinoline 
of  the  two  filled  all  the  body  of  the  ample  coach  from 


18  THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

seat  to  seat,  and  the  folds  of  their  figured  muslins, 
flowing  out  over  this  ample  outline,  gave  to  the  face 
of  each  a  daintiness  of  contour  and  feature  which 
was  not  ill  relieved  by  the  high  head-dress  of  ribbons 
and  bepowdered  hair.  Of  the  two  ladies,  one,  even 
in  despite  of  her  crinoline,  might  have  been  seen  to  be 
of  noble  and  queenly  figure ;  the  towering  head-dress 
did  not  fully  disguise  the  wealth  of  red-bronze  hair. 
Tall  and  well-rounded,  vigorous  and  young,  not  yet 
twenty,  adored  by  many  suitors,  the  Lady  Catharine 
Knollys  had  rarely  looked  better  than  she  did  this 
morning  as  she  drove  out  to  Sadler's,  for  Providence 
alone  knew  what  fault  of  a  superb  vital  energy.  Her 
eyes  sparkled  as  she  spoke,  and  every  gesture  be 
tokened  rather  the  grand  young  creature  that  she 
was  than  the  valetudinarian  going  forth  for  healing. 
Her  cheek,  turned  now  and  again,  showed  a  clear- 
cut  and  untouched  soundness  that  meant  naught  but 
health.  It  showed  also  the  one  blemish  upon  a 
beauty  which  was  toasted  in  the  court  as  faultless. 
Upon  the  left  cheek  there  was  a  mouche,  excessive 
in  its  size.  Strangers  might  have  commented  on 
it.  Really  it  covered  a  deep-stained  birth-mark,  the 
one  blur  upon  a  peerless  beauty.  Yet  even  this  might 
be  forgotten,  as  it  was  now. 

The  companion  of  the  Lady  Catharine  in  her  coach 
was  a  young  woman,  scarce  so  tall  and  more  slender. 


AT    SADLER'S    WELLS  19 

The  heavy  hoop  concealed  much  of  the  grace  of  figure 
which  was  her  portion,  but  the  poise  of  the  upper 
body,  free  from  the  seat-back  and  erect  with  youth 
ful  strength  as  yet  unspared,  showed  easily  that  here, 
too,  was  but  an  indifferent  subject  for  Sadler's. 
Dark,  where  her  companion  was  fair,  and  with  the 
glossy  texture  of  her  own  somber  locks  showing  in 
the  individual  roll  which  ran  back  into  the  absurd 
fontange  of  false  hair  and  falser  powder,  Mary 
Connynge  made  good  foil  for  her  bosom  friend; 
though  honesty  must  admit  that  neither  had  yet 
much  concern  for  foils,  since  both  had  their  full 
meed  of  gallants.  Much  seen  together,  they  were 
commonly  known  as  the  Morning  and  Eve,  some 
times  as  Aurora  and  Eve.  Never  did  daughter  of 
the  original  Eve  have  deeper  feminine  guile  than 
Mary  Connynge.  Soft  of  speech — as  her  friend,  the 
Lady  Catharine,  was  impulsive, — slow,  suave,  amber- 
eyed  and  innocent  of  visage,  this  young  English 
woman,  with  no  dower  save  that  of  beauty  and  of 
wit,  had  not  failed  of  a  sensation  at  the  capital 
whither  she  had  come  as  guest  of  the  Lady  Catharine. 
Three  captains  and  a  squire,  to  say  nothing  of  a  gouty 
colonel,  had  already  fallen  victims,  and  had  heard 
their  fate  in  her  low,  soft  tones,  which  could  whisper 
a  fashionable  oath  in  the  accent  of  a  hymn,  and  say 
"no"  so  sweetly  that  one  could  only  beg  to  hear  the 


20  THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

word  again.  It  was  perhaps  of  some  such  incident 
that  these  two  young  maids  of  old  London  conversed 
as  they  trundled  slowly  out  toward  the  suburb  of 
the  city. 

"'Twould  have  killed  you,  Lady  Kitty;  sure 
'twould  have  been  your  end  to  hear  him  speak !  He 
walked  the  floor  upon  his  knees,  and  clasped  his 
hands,  and  followed  me  about  like  a  dog  in  a  specta 
cle.  Lord !  but  I  feared  he  would  have  thrown  over 
the  tabouret  with  his  great  feet.  And  help  me,  if 
I  think  not  he  had  tears  in  his  eyes !" 

"My  friend/'  said  Lady  Kitty,  solemnly,  "you 
must  have  better  care  of  your  conduct.  I'll  not  have 
my  father's  old  friend  abused  in  his  own  house." 
At  which  they  both  burst  into  laughter.  Youth, 
the  blithely  cruel,  had  its  own  way  in  this  old  coach 
upon  the  ancient  dusty  road,  as  it  has  ever  had. 

But  now  serious  affairs  gained  the  attention  of 
these  two  fairs.  "Tell  me,  sweetheart,"  said  Lady 
Catharine,  "what  think  you  of  the  fancy  of  my  new 
dresser?  He  insists  ever  that  the  mode  in  Paris 
favors  a  deep  bow,  placed  high  upon  the  left  side  of 
the  'tower.'  Montespan,  of  the  French  court,  is  said 
to  have  given  the  fashion.  She  hurried  at  her  toilet, 
and  placed  the  bow  there  for  fault  of  better  care. 
Hence,  so  must  we  if  we  are  to  live  in  town.  So  says 


AT    SADLER'S    WELLS  21 

my  new  hair-dresser  from  Paris.  'Tis  to  Paris  we 
must  go  for  the  modes." 

"I  am  not  so  sure,"  began  Mary  Connynge,  "as 
to  this  arrangement.  Now  I  am  much  disposed  to 
believe — "  but  what  she  was  disposed  to  believe  at 
that  time  was  not  said,  then  or  ever  afterward,  for 
at  that  moment  there  happened  matters  which  ended 
their  little  talk;  matters  which  divided  their  two 
lives,  and  which,  in  the  end,  drove  them  as  far  apart 
as  two  continents  could  carry  them. 

"0  Gemini!"  called  out  Mary  Cunnynge,  as  the 
coachman  for  a  moment  slackened  his  pace.  "Look ! 
We  shall  be  robbed !" 

The  driver  irresolutely  pulled  up  his  horses.  From 
under  the  shade  of  the  hedge  there  arose  two  men, 
of  whom  the  taller  now  stood  erect  and  came  toward 
the  carriage. 

"'Tis  no  robber,"  said  Lady  Catharine  Knollys, 
her  eyes  fastened  on  the  tall  figure  which  came 
forward. 

"Save  us,"  said  Mary  Connynge,  "what  a  pretty 
man !" 


JOHN  LAW  OF  LAUEISTON 

Unconsciously  the  coachman  obeyed  the  unvoiced 
command  of  this  man,  who  stepped  out  from  the 
shelter  of  the  hedge.  Travel-stained,  just  awak 
ened  from  sleep,  disheveled,  with  dress  disordered, 
there  was  none  the  less  abundant  boldness  in  his 
mien  as  he  came  forward,  yet  withal  the  grace  and 
deference  of  the  courtier.  It  was  a  good  figure  he 
made  as  He  stepped  down  from  the  bank  and  came 
forward,  hat  in  hand,  the  sun,  now  rising  to  the  top 
of  the  hedge,  lighting  up  his  face  and  showing  his 
bold  profile,  his  open  and  straight  blue  eye. 

"Ladies,"  he  said,  as  he  reached  the  road,  "I  crave 
your  pardon  humbly.  This,  I  think,  is  the  coach  of 
my  Lord,  the  Earl  of  Banbury.  Mayhap  this  is  the 
Lady  Catharine  Knollys  to  whom  I  speak?" 

The  lady  addressed  still  gazed  at  him,  though  she 
drew  up  with  dignity. 

"Yon  have  quite  the  advantage  of  us,"  said  she. 
She  glanced  uneasily  at  the  coachman,  but  the  order 
to  go  forward  did  not  quite  leave  her  lips. 
(22) 


JOHN   LAW   OF   LAUKISTON  23 

"I  am  not  aware — I  do  not  know — ,"  she  began, 
afraid  of  her  adventure  now  it  had  come,  after  the 
way  of  all  dreaming  maids  who  prate  of  men  and 
conquests. 

"I  should  be  dull  of  eye  did  I  not  see  the  Knollys 
arms,"  said  the  stranger,  smiling  and  bowing  low. 
"And  I  should  be  ill  advised  of  the  families  of  Eng 
land  did  I  not  know  that  the  daughter  of  Knollys, 
the  sister  of  the  Earl  of  Banbury,  is  the  Lady  Catha 
rine,  and  most  charming  also.  This  I  might  say, 
though  'tis  true  I  never  was  in  London  or  in  England 
until  now." 

The  speech,  given  with  all  respectfulness,  did  not 
fail  of  flattery.  Again  the  order  to  drive  on  re 
mained  unspoken.  This  speaker,  whose  foot  was 
now  close  to  the  carriage  step,  and  whose  head, 
gravely  bowed  as  he  saluted  the  occupants  of  the 
vehicle,  presented  so  striking  a  type  of  manly  at 
tractiveness,  even  that  first  moment  cast  some  spell 
upon  the  woman  whom  he  sought  to  interest.  The 
eyes  of  the  Lady  Catharine  Knollys  did  not  turn 
from  him.  As  though  it  were  another  person,  she 
heard  herself  murmur,  "And  you,  sir  ?" 

"I  am  John  Law  of  Lauriston,  Scotland,  Madam, 
and  entirely  at  your  service.  This  is  my  brother 
Will,  yonder  by  the  bank."  He  smiled,  and  the 
younger  man  came  forward,  hesitatingly,  and  not 


24  THE   MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

with,  the  address  of  his  brother,  though  yet  with  the 
breeding  of  a  gentleman. 

The  eyes  of  Mary  Connynge  took  in  both  men 
with  the  same  look,  but  her  eyes,  as  did  those  of  the 
Lady  Catharine,  became  most  concerned  with  the 
first  speaker. 

"My  brother  and  I  are  on  our  first  journey  to 
London,"  continued  he,  with  a  gay  laugh  which  did 
not  consort  fully  with  the  plight  in  which  he  showed. 
"We  started  by  coach,  as  gentlemen;  and  now  we 
come  on  foot,  like  laborers  or  thieves.  'Twas  my  own 
fault.  Yesterday  I  must  needs  quit  the  Edinboro' 
stage.  Last  night  our  chaise  was  stopped,  and  we 
were  asked  to  hand  our  money  to  a  pair  of  evil  fellows 
who  had  made  prey  of  us.  In  short — you  see — we 
fared  ill  enough.  Lost  in  the  dark,  we  made  what 
shift  we  could  along  this  road,  where  we  both  are 
strangers.  At  last,  not  able  to  pay  for  better  quar 
ters  even  had  we  found  them,  we  lay  down  to  sleep. 
I  have  slept  far  worse.  And  'tis  a  lovely  morning. 
Madam,  I  thank  you  for  this  happy  beginning  of  the 
day." 

Mary  Connynge  pointed  to  the  bandage  on  the 
younger  man's  arm,  speaking  a  low  word  to  her  com 
panion. 

"True,"  said  the  Lady  Catharine,  "you  are  injured, 
sir ;  you  did  not  come  off  whole." 


"Oh,  we  would  hardly  suffer  the  fellows  to  rob  us 
without  making  some  argument  over  it,"  said  the 
first  speaker.  "Indeed,  I  think  we  are  the  better  off 
hereabouts  for  a  brace  of  footpads  gone  to  their  ac 
count.  I  made  them  my  duties  as  we  came  away. 
Will,  here,  was  pricked  a  trifle,  but  you  see  we  have 
done  very  well." 

The  face  of  Will  Law  hardly  offered  complete 
proof  of  this  assertion.  He  had  slept  ill  enough, 
and  in  the  morning  light  his  face  showed  gaunt  and 
pale.  Here,  then,  was  a  situation  most  inopportune ; 
the  coach  of  two  ladies,  unattended,  stopped  by  two 
strangers,  who  certainly  could  not  claim  introduction 
by  either  friend  or  reputation. 

"I  did  but  wish  to  ask  some  advice  of  the  roads 
hereabout,"  said  the  elder  brother,  turning  his  eyes 
full  upon  those  of  the  Lady  Catharine.  "As  you  see, 
we  are  in  ill  plight  to  get  forward  to  the  city.  If 
you  will  be  so  good  as  to  tell  me  which  way  to  take, 
I  shall  remember  it  most  gratefully.  Once  in  the 
city,  we  should  do  better,  for  the  rascals  have  not 
taken,  certain  papers,  letters  which  I  bear  to  gentle 
men  in  the  city — Sir  Arthur  Pembroke  I  may  name 
as  one — a  friend  of  my  father's,  who  hath  had  some 
dealings  with  him  in  the  handling  of  moneys.  I  have 
also  word  for  others,  and  make  sure  that,  once  we 
have  got  into  town,  we  shall  soon  mend  our  fortune." 


26  THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

Lady  Catharine  looked  at  Mary  Connynge  and  the 
latter  in  turn  gazed  at  her.  "There  could  be  no 
harm,"  said  each  to  the  other  with  her  eyes.  "Surely 
it  is  our  duty  to  take  them  in  with  us;  at  least  the 
one  who  is  wounded." 

Will  Law  had  said  nothing,  though  he  had  come 
forward  to  the  road,  and,  bowing,  stood  uncovered. 
Now  he  leaned  against  the  flank  of  one  of  the  horses, 
in  a  tremor  of  vertigo  which  seized  him  as  he  stood. 
It  was  perhaps  the  paleness  of  his  face  that  gave 
determination  to  the  issue. 

"William,"  called  the  Lady  Catharine  Knollys, 
"open  the  door  for  Mr.  Law  of  Lauriston !" 

The  footman  sprang  to  the  ground  and  held  open 
the  door.  Therefore,  into  the  coach  stepped  John 
Law  and  his  brother,  late  of  Edinboro',  sometime 
robbed  and  afoot,  but  now  to  come  into  London  in 
circumstances  which  surely  might  have  been  far 
worse. 

John  Law  entered  the  coach  with  the  dignity  and 
grace  of  a  gentleman  born.  He  bowed  gravely  as  he 
took  his  seat  beside  his  brother,  facing  the  ladies. 
Will  Law  sank  back  into  the  corner,  not  averse  to 
rest.  The  eyes  of  the  two  young  women  did  not  lin 
ger  more  upon  the  wounded  man  than  upon  his 
brother.  He,  in  turn,  looked  straight  into  their  eyes, 
courteously,  respectfully,  gravely,  yet  fearlessly  and 


JOHN   LAW    OF    LAUKISTON  27 

calmly,  as  though  he  knew  what  power  and  possibili 
ties  were  his.  Enigma  and  autocrat  alike,  Beau  Law 
of  Edinboro',  one  of  the  handsomest  and  properest 
men  ever  bred  on  any  soil,  was  surely  a  picture  of 
vigorous  young  manhood,  as  he  rode  toward  Sadler's 
Wells,  with  two  of  the  beauties  of  the  hour,  and  in  a 
coach  and  four  which  might  have  been  his  own. 

Now  all  the  sweet  spring  morning  came  on  apace, 
and  from  the  fields  and  little  gardens  came  the  breath 
of  flowers.  The  sky  was  blue.  The  languor  of 
springtime  pulsed  through  the  veins  of  those  young 
creatures,  those  engines  of  life,  of  passion  and  desire. 
Neither  of  the  two  women  saw  the  torn  garb  of  the 
man  before  them.  They  saw  but  the  curve  of  the 
strong  chest  beneath.  They  heard,  and  the  one  heard 
and  felt  as  keenly  as  the  other,  the  voice  of  the 
young  man,  musical  and  rich,  touching  some  deep- 
seated  and  vibrating  heart-string.  So  in  the  merry 
month  of  May,  with  the  birds  singing  in  the  trees, 
and  the  scent  of  the  flowers  wafted  coolly  to  their 
senses,  they  came  on  apace  to  the  throng  at  Sadler's 
Wells.  There  it  was  that  John  Law,  finding  in  a 
pocket  a  coin  that  had  been  overlooked,  reached  out 
to  a  vender  and  bought  a  rose.  He  offered  his  flower 
with  a  deep  inclination  of  the  body  to  the  Lady 
Catharine. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Mary  Connynge  first 
began  to  hate  her  friend,  the  Lady  Catharine  Knollys. 


CHAPTER  TV 

THE   POINT  OF  HONOR 

"Tell  me,  friend  Castleton,"  said  Pembroke,  ban- 
teringly,  "art  still  adhering  to  thy  country  drink  of 
lamb's- wool?  Methinks  burnt  ale  and  toasted  apple 
might  better  be  replaced  in  thy  case  by  a  beaker  of 
stronger  waters.  You  lose,  and  still  you  lose." 

"May  a  plague  take  it !"  cried  Castleton.  "I've  had 
no  luck  these  four  days.  'Tis  that  cursed  lap-dog  of 
the  duchess.  Ugh !  I  saw  it  in  my  dreams  last  night." 

"Gad !  your  own  fortune  in  love  must  be  ill  enough, 
Sir  Arthur,"  said  Beau  Wilson,  as  he  pushed  back  his 
chair  during  this  little  lull  in  the  play  of  the  evening. 

"And  tell  me  why,  Beau  ?" 

"Because  of  us  all  who  have  met  here  at  the  Green 
Lion  these  last  months,  not  one  hath  ever  had  so 
steady  a  run  of  luck.  Sure  some  fairy  hath  be 
friended  thee.  Sept  et  le  vaf  sept  et  le  va — I'll  hear 
it  in  my  ears  to-night,  even  as  Castleton  sees  the  lap- 
dog.  Man,  you  play  as  though  you  read  the  pack 
quite  through." 

(28) 


THE    POINT    OF    HONOE  29 

"Ah,  then,  you  admit  that  there  is  some  such 
thing  as  a  talisman.  I'll  not  deny  that  I  have  had 
one  these  last  three  evenings,  but  I  feared  to  tell 
ye  all,  lest  I  might  be  waylaid  and  robbed  of  my 
good-luck  charm." 

"Tell  us,  tell  us,  man,  what  it  is !"  cried  Castleton. 
"Sept  et  le  va  has  not  been  made  in  this  room  be 
fore  for  many  a  month,  yet  here  thou  comest  with  the 
run  of  sept  et  le  va  thrice  in  as  many  hours." 

"Well,  then,"  continued  Pembroke,  still  smiling, 
"I'll  make  a  small  confession.  Here  is  my  charm. 
Salute  it!" 

He  cast  on  the  table  the  Indian  moccasin  which 
had  been  shown  the  same  party  at  the  Green  Lion  a 
few  evenings  before.  Eager  hands  reached  for  it. 

"Treachery!"  cried  Castleton.  "I  bid  Du  Mesne 
four  pounds  for  the  shoe  myself." 

"Oh  ho !"  said  Pembroke,  "so  you  too  were  after  it. 
Well,  the  long  purse  won,  as  it  doth  ever.  I  secretly 
gave  our  wandering  wood  ranger,  ex-galley  slave  of 
France,  the  neat  sum  of  twenty-five  pounds  for  this 
little  shoe.  Poor  fellow,  he  liked  ill  enough  to  part 
with  it;  but  he  said,  very  sensibly,  that  the  twenty- 
five  pounds  would  take  him  back  to  Canada,  and  once 
there,  he  could  not  only  get  many  such  shoes,  but  see 
the  maid  who  made  this  one  for  him,  or,  rather,  made 
it  for  herself.  As  for  me,  the  price  was  cheap.  You 


30  THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

could  not  replace  it  in  all  the  Exchange  for  any 
money.  Moreover,  to  show  my  canniness,  I've  won 
back  its  cost  a  score  of  times  this  very  night." 

He  laughingly  extended  his  hand  for  the  moccasin, 
which  Wilson  was  examining  closely. 

"  'Tis  clever  made,"  said  the  latter.  "And  what  a 
tale  the  owner  of  it  carried.  If  half  he  says  be  true, 
we  do  ill  to  bide  here  in  old  England.  Let  us  take 
ship  and  follow  Monsieur  du  Mesne." 

"  'Twould  be  a  long  chase,  mayhap,"  said  Pem 
broke,  reflectively.  Yet  each  of  the  men  at  that  little 
table  in  the  gaming  room  of  the  Green  Lion  coffee 
house  ceased  in  his  fingering  the  cards,  and  gazed 
upon  this  product  of  another  world. 

Pembroke  was  first  to  break  the  silence,  and  as  he 
heard  a  footfall  at  the  door,  he  called  out : 

"Ho,  fellow !  Go  fetch  me  another  bottle  of  Span 
ish,  and  do  not  forget  this  time  the  brandy  and  water 
which  I  told  thee  to  bring  half  an  hour  ago." 

The  step  came  nearer,  and  as  it  did  not  retreat,  but 
entered  the  room,  Pembroke  called  out  again :  "Make 
haste,  man,  and  go  on !" 

The  footsteps  paused,  and  Pembroke  looked  up,  as 
one  does  when  a  strange  presence  comes  into  the 
room.  He  saw,  standing  near  the  door,  a  tall  and 
comely  young  man,  whose  carriage  betokened  him 
not  ill-born.  The  stranger  advanced  and  bowed 


THE    POINT    OF    HONOR  31 

i. 

gravely.  "Pardon  me,  sir/'  he  said,  "but  I  fear  I 
am  awkward  in  thus  intruding.  The  man  showed 
me  up  the  stair  and  bade  me  enter.  He  said  that  I 
should  find  here  Sir  Arthur  Pembroke,  upon  whom 
I  bear  letters  from  friends  of  his  in  the  North." 

"Sir,"  said  Pembroke,  rising  and  advancing,  "you 
are  very  welcome,  and  I  ask  pardon  for  my  unwitting 
speech."  •, 

"I  come  at  this  hour  and  at  this  place,"  said  the 
newcomer,  "for  reasons  which  may  seem  good  a  little 
later.  My  name  is  John  Law,  of  Edinboro',  sir." 

All  those  present  arose. 

"Sir,"  responded  Pembroke,  "I  am  delighted  to 
have  your  name.  I  know  of  the  acquaintance  be 
tween  your  father  and  my  own.  These  are  friends 
of  mine,  and  I  am  delighted  to  name  ye  to  each 
other.  Mr.  Charles  Castleton;  Mr.  Edward  Wilson. 
We  are  all  here  to  kill  the  ancient  enemy,  Time.  'Tis 
an  hour  of  night  when  one  gains  an  appetite  for  one 
thing  or  another,  cards  or  cold  joint.  I  know  not 
why  we  should  not  have  a  bit  of  both  ?" 

"With  your  permission,  I  shall  be  glad  to  join  ye 
at  either,"  said  John  Law.  "I  have  still  the  appetite 
of  a  traveler — in  faith,  rather  a  better  appetite  than 
most  travelers  may  claim,  for  I  swear  I've  had  no 
more  to  eat  the  last  day  and  night  than  could  be  pur 
chased  for  a  pair  of  shillings." 


32  THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

Pembroke  raised  his  eyebrows,  scarce  knowing 
whether  to  be  amused  at  this  speech  or  nettled  by  its 
cool  assurance. 

"Some  ill  fortune  ?" —  he  began  politely. 

"There  is  no  such  thing  as  ill  fortune/*  quoth 
John  Law.  "We  fail  always  of  our  own  fault.  For 
sooth  I  must  explore  Eoman  roads  by  night.  Eng 
land  hath  builded  better,  and  the  footpads  have  the 
Roman  ways.  My  brother  Will — he  waiteth  below, 
if  ye  please,  good  friends,  and  is  quite  as  hungry  as 
myself,  besides  having  a  pricked  finger  to  boot — and 
I  lost  what  little  we  had  about  us,  and  we  came 
through  with  scarce  a  good  shirt  between  the  two." 

A  peal  of  laughter  greeted  him  as  he  pulled  apart 
the  lapels  of  his  coat  and  showed  ruffles  torn  and  dis 
figured.  The  speaker  smiled  gravely. 

"To-morrow/'  said  he,  "I  must  seek  me  out  a  gold 
smith  and  a  haberdasher,  if  you  will  be  so  good  as  to 
name  such  to  me." 

"Sir,"  said  Sir  Arthur  Pembroke,  "in  this  plight 
you  must  allow  me."  He  extended  a  purse  which  he 
drew  from  his  pocket.  "I  beg  you,  help  yourself." 

"Thank  you,  no,"  replied  John  Law.  "I  shall  ask 
you  only  to  show  me  the  goldsmith  in  the  morning, 
him  upon  whom  I  hold  certain  credits.  I  make  no 
doubt  that  then  I  shall  be  quite  fit  again.  I  have 
never  in  my  life  borrowed  a  coin.  Besides,  I  should 


THE    POINT   OF   HONOR  33 

feel  that  I  had  offended  my  good  angel  did  I  ask  it 
to  help  me  out  of  mine  own  folly.  If  we  have  but  a 
bit  of  this  cold  joint,  and  a  place  for  my  brother 
Will  to  sit  in  comfort  as  we  play,  I  shall  beg  to  hope, 
my  friends,  that  I  shall  be  allowed  to  stake  this  trifle 
against  a  little  of  the  money  that  I  see  here ;  which, 
I  take  it,  is  subject  to  the  fortunes  of  war." 

He  tossed  on  the  board  a  ring,  which  carried  in 
its  setting  a  diamond  of  size  'and  brilliance. 

"This  fellow  hath  a  cool  assurance  enough,"  mut 
tered  Beau  Wilson  to  his  neighbor  as  he  leaned  to 
ward  him  at  the  table. 

Pembroke,  always  good-natured,  laughed  at  the  ef 
frontery  of  the  newcomer. 

"You  say  very  well ;  it  is  there  for  the  fortune  of 
war,"  said  he.  "It  is  all  yours,  if  you  can  win  it ;  but 
I  warn  you,  beware,  for  I  shall  have  your  jewel  and 
your  letters  of  credit  too,  if  ye  keep  not  sharp  watch." 

"Yes,"  said  Castleton,  "Pembroke  hath  warrant 
for  such  speech.  The  man  who  can  make  sept  et  le  va 
thrice  in  one  evening  is  hard  company  for  his 
friends." 

John  Law  leaned  back  comfortably  in  his  chair. 

"I  make  no  doubt,"  said  he,  "that  I  shall  make 
trente  et  le  va,  here  at  this  table,  this  very  evening." 

Smiles  and  good-natured  sneerings  met  this  calm 
speech. 


34  THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

"Trente  et  le  va — it  hath  not  come  out  in  the  his 
tory  of  London  play  for  the  past  four  seasons !"  cried 
Wilson.  "I'll  lay  you  any  odds  that  you're  not  with 
in  eye-sight  of  trente  et  le  va  these  next  five  evenings, 
if  you  favor  us  with  your  company." 

"Be  easy  with  me,  good  friends,"  said  John  Law, 
calmly.  "I  am  not  yet  in  condition  for  individual 
wagers,  as  my  jewel  is  my  fortune,  till  to-morrow  at 
least.  But  if  ye  choose  to  make  the  play  at  Lands- 
knecht,  I  will  plunge  at  the  bank  to  the  best  of  my 
capital.  Then,  if  I  win,  I  shall  be  blithe  to  lay  ye 
what  ye  like." 

The  young  Englishmen  sat  looking  at  their  guest 
with  some  curiosity.  His  strange  assurance  daunted 
them. 

"Surely  this  is  a  week  of  wonders,"  said  Beau 
Wilson,  with  scarce  covered  sarcasm  in  his  tone. 
"First  we  have  a  wild  man  from  Canada,  with  his 
fairy  stories  of  gold  and  gems,  and  now  we  have  an 
other  gentleman  who  apparently  hath  fathomed  as 
well  how  to  gain  sudden  wealth  'at  will,  and  yet  keep 
closer  home." 

Law  took  snuff  calmly.  "I  am  not  romancing,  gen 
tlemen,"  said  he.  "With  me  play  is  not  a  hazard, 
but  a  science.  I  ought  really  not  to  lay  on  even 
terms  with  you.  As  I  have  said,  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  chance.  There  'are  such  things  as  recur- 


THE    POINT   OF   HONOR  35 

rences,  such  things  as  laws  that  govern  all  happen 
ings." 

Laughter  arose  again  at  this,  though  it  did  not  dis 
turb  the  newcomer,  nor  did  the  cries  of  derision 
which  followed  his  announcement  of  his  system. 

"Many  a  man  hath  come  to  London  town  with  a 
system  of  play,"  cried  Pembroke.  "Tell  us,  Mr.  Law, 
what  and  where  shall  we  send  thee  when  we  have 
won  thy  last  sixpence  ?" 

"Good  sir,"  said  Law,  "let  us  first  of  all  have  the 
joint." 

"I  humbly  crave  a  pardon,  sir,"  said  Pembroke. 
"In  this  new  sort  of  discourse  I  had  forgot  thine  ap 
petite.  We  shall  mend  that  at  once.  Here,  Simon! 
Go  fetch  up  Mr.  Law's  brother,  who  waits  below,  and 
fetch  two  covers  and  a  bit  to  eat.  Some  of  thy  new 
Java  berry,  too,  and  make  haste !  We  have  much  yet 
to  do." 

"That  have  ye,  if  ye  are  to  see  the  bottom  of  my 
purse  more  than  once,"  said  Law  gaily.  "See!  'tis 
quite  empty  now.  I  make  ye  all  my  solemn  promise 
that  'twill  not  be  empty  again  for  twenty  years. 
After  that — well,  the  old  Highland  soothsayer,  who 
dreamed  for  me,  always  told  me  to  forswear  play 
after  I  was  forty,  and  never  to  go  too  near  running 
water.  Of  the  latter  I  was  born  with  a  horror.  For 
play,  I  was  bojn  with  a  gift.  Thus  I  foresee  that 


36  THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

this  little  feat  which  you  mention  is  sure  to  be  mine 
this  very  night.  You  all  say  that  trente  has  not  come 
up  for  many  months.  Well,  'tis  due,  and  due  to 
night.  The  cards  never  fail  me  when  I  need." 

"By  my  faith,"  cried  Wilson,  "ye  have  a  pretty  way 
about  you  up  in  Scotland !" 

John  Law  saw  the  veiled  ill  feeling,  and  replied 
at  once: 

"True,  we  have  a  pretty  way.  We  had  it  at  Killie- 
crankie  not  so  long  ago;  and  when  the  clans  fight 
among  themselves,  we  need  still  prettier  ways." 

"Now,  gentlemen,"  said  Pembroke,  "none  of  this 
talk,  by  your  leave.  The  odds  are  fairer  here  than 
they  were  at  Killiecrankie's  battle,  and  'tis  all  of  us 
against  the  Scotch  again.  We  English  stand  to 
gether,  but  we  stand  to-night  only  against  this  threat 
of  the  ultimate  fortune  of  the  cards.  Moreover,  here 
comes  the  supper,  and  if  I  mistake  not,  also  the 
brother  of  our  friend." 

Will  bowed  to  one  and  the  other  gentlemen,  uncon 
sciously  drifting  toward  his  brother's  chair. 

"Wow  we  must  to  business,"  cried  Castleton,  as  the 
dishes  were  at  last  cleared  away.  "Show  him  thy 
talisman,  Pern,  and  let  him  kiss  his  jewel  good  by." 

Pembroke  threw  upon  the  table  once  more  the  moc 
casin  of  the  Indian  girl.  John  Law  picked  it  up  and 


THE    POINT   OF   HONOR  37 

examined  it  long  and  curiously,  asking  again  and 
again  searching  questions  regarding  its  origin. 

"I  have  read  of  this  new  land  of  America/'  said 
he.  "Some  day  it  will  be  more  prominent  in  all 
plans." 

He  laid  down  the  slipper  and  mused  for  a  moment, 
apparently  forgetful  of  the  scene  about  him. 

"Perhaps,"  cried  Castleton,  the  zeal  of  the  gambler 
now  showing  in  his  eye.  "But  let  us  make  play  here 
to-night.  Let  Pembroke  bank.  His  luck  is  best  to 
win  this  vaunter's  stake." 

Pembroke  dealt  the  cards  about  for  the  first  round. 
The  queen  fell.  John  Law  won.  "Deux,"  he  said 
calmly,  and  turned  away  as  though  it  were  a  matter 
of  course.  The  cards  went  round  again.  "Trois"  he 
said,  as  he  glanced  at  his  stakes,  now  doubled  again. 

Wilson  murmured.  "Luck's  with  him  for  a  start," 
said  he,  "but  'tis  a  long  road."  He  himself  had  lost 
at  the  second  turn.  "Quint!"  "Seix!"  "Sept  et  le 
va!"  in  turn  called  Law,  still  coolly,  still  regarding 
with  little  interest  the  growing  heap  of  coin  upon  the 
board  opposite  the  glittering  ring  which  he  had  left 
lying  on  the  table. 

"Vingt-un,  et  le  va!" 

"Good  God!"  cried  Oastleton,  the  sweat  breaking 
out  upon  his  forehead.  "See  the  fellow's  luck! — 


38  THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

Pembroke,  sure  he  hath  stole  thy  slipper.  Such  a  run 
of  cards  was  never  seen  in  this  room  since  Rigby,  of 
the  Tenth,  made  his  great  game  four  years  ago." 

"Vingt-cinq;  et  le  va!"  said  John  Law,  calmly. 

Will  touched  his  sleeve.  The  stake  had  now  grown 
till  the  money  on  the  board  meant  a  matter  of 
hundreds  of  pounds,  which  might  be  removed  at  any 
turn  the  winner  chose.  It  was  there  but  for  the 
stretching  out  of  the  hand.  Yet  this  strange  genius 
sat  there,  scarce  deigning  to  smile  at  the  excited 
faces  of  those  about  him. 

"I'll  lay  thee  fifty  to  one  that  the  next  turn  sees 
thee  lose !"  cried  Castleton. 

"Done,"  said  John  Law. 

The  iciness  in  the  air  seemed  now  an  actual  thing. 
There  was,  in  the  nature  of  this  play,  something 
which  no  man  at  that  board,  hardened  gamesters  as 
they  all  were,  had  ever  met  before.  It  was  indeed 
as  though  Fate  were  there,  with  her  hand  upon  the 
shoulder  of  a  favored  son. 

"You  lose,  Mr.  Castleton,"  said  Law,  calmly,  as 
the  cards  came  again  his  way.  He  swept  his  winnings 
from  the  coin  pushed  out  to  him. 

"Now  we  have  thee,  Mr.  Law!"  cried  Pembroke. 
"One  more  turn,  and  I  hope  your  very  good  nerve 
will  leave  the  stake  on  the  board,  for  so  we'll  see  it  all 
come  back  to  the  bank,  even  as  the  sheep  come  home 


THE    POINT    OF   HONOK  39 

at  eventide.  Here  your  lane  turns.  And  'tis  at  the 
last  stage,  for  the  next  is  the  limit  of  the  rules  of  the 
game.  But  you'll  not  win  it." 

"Anything  you  like  for  a  little  personal  wager," 
said  the  other,  with  no  excitement  in  his  voice. 

"Why,  then,  anything  you  like  yourself,  sir,"  said 
Pembroke. 

"Your  little  slipper  against  fifty  pounds?"  asked 
John  Law. 

"Why — yes — ,"  hesitated  Pembroke,  for  the  mo 
ment  feeling  a  doubt  of  the  luck  that  had  favored 
him  so  long  that  evening.  "I'd  rather  make  it  sover 
eigns,  but  since  you  name  the  slipper,  I  even  make  it 
so,  for  I  know  there  is  but  one  chance  in  hundreds 
that  you  win." 

The  players  leaned  over  the  table  as  the  deal  went 
on.  Once,  twice,  thrice,  the  cards  went  round.  A 
sigh,  a  groan,  a  long  breath  broke  from  those  who 
looked  at  the  deal.  Neither  groan  nor  sigh  came 
from  John  Law.  He  gazed  indifferently  at  the  heap 
of  coin  and  paper  that  lay  on  the  table,  and  which, 
by  the  law  of  play,  was  now  his  own. 

"Trente  et  le  va"  he  said.  "I  knew  that  it  would 
come.  Sir  Arthur,  I  half  regret  to  rob  thee  thus,  but 
I  shall  ask  my  slipper  in  hand  paid.  Pardon  me,  too, 
if  I  chide  thee  for  risking  it  in  play.  Gentlemen, 
there  is  much  in  this  little  shoe,  empty  as  it  is." 


40  THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

He  dandled  it  upon  his  finger,  hardly  looking  at 
the  winnings  that  lay  before  him.  "  'Tis  monstrous 
pretty,  this  little  shoe,"  he  said,  rousing  himself  from 
his  half  reverie. 

"Confound  thee,  man!"  cried  Castleton,  "that 
is  the  only  thing  we  grudge.  Of  sovereigns  there  are 
plenty  at  the  coinage — but  of  a  shoe  like  this,  there 
is  not  the  equal  this  day  in  England !" 

"So?"  laughed  Law.  "Well,  consider,  'tis  none 
too  easy  to  make  the  run  of  trente.  Bisk  hath  its 
gains,  you  know,  by  all  the  original  laws  of  earth  and 
nature." 

"But  heard  you  not  the  wager  which  was  proposed 
over  the  little  shoe?"  broke  in  Castleton.  "Wilson, 
here,  was  angered  when  I  laid  him  odds  that  there 
was  but  one  woman  in  London  could  wear  this  shoe. 
I  offered  him  odds  that  his  good  friend.  Kittie  Law 
rence — " 

"Nor  had  ye  the  right  to  offer  such  bet!"  cried 
Wilson,  ruffled  by  the  doings  of  the  evening. 

"I'll  lay  you  myself  there's  no  woman  in  England 
whom  you  know  with  foot  small  enough  to  wear  it." 
cried  Castleton. 

"Meaning  to  me  ?"  asked  Law,  politely. 

"To  any  one,"  cried  Castleton,  quickly,  "but  most 
to  thee,  I  fancy,  since  'tis  now  thy  shoe  I" 


THE    POINT    OF    HONOE  41 

"I'll  lay  you  forty  crowns,  then,  that  I  know  a 
smaller  foot  than  that  of  Madam  Lawrence,"  said 
Law,  suavely.  "I'll  lay  you  another  forty  crowns  that 
I'll  try  it  on  for  the  test,  though  I  first  saw  the  lady 
this  very  morning.  I'll  lay  you  another  forty  crowns 
that  Madam  Lawrence  can  not  wear  this  shoe, 
though  her  I  have  never  seen." 

These  words  rankled,  though  they  were  said  off 
hand  and  with  the  license  of  coffee-house  talk  at  so 
late  an  hour.  Beau  Wilson  rose,  in  a  somewhat 
unsteady  attitude,  and,  turning  towards  Law,  ad 
dressed  him  with  a  tone  which  left  small  option  as 
to  its  meaning. 

"Sirrah !"  cried  he,  "I  know  not  who  you  are,  but  I 
would  have  a  word  or  two  of  good  advice  for  you !" 

"Sir,  I  thank  you,"  said  John  Law,  "but  perhaps 
I  do  not  need  advice."  He  did  not  rise  from  his  seat. 

"Have  it  then  at  any  rate,  and  be  civil !"  cried  the 
older  man.  "You  seem  a  swaggering  sort,  with  your 
talk  of  love  and  luck,  and  such  are  sure  to  get  their 
combs  cut  early  enough  here  among  Englishmen. 
I'll  not  tolerate  your  allusion  to  a  lady  you  have  never 
met,  and  one  I  honor  deeply,  sir,  deeply !" 

"I  am  but  a  young  man  started  out  to  seek  his  for 
tune,"  said  John  Law,  his  eye  kindling  now  for  the 
first  time,  "and  I  should  do  very  ill  if  I  evaded  that 
fortune,  whatsoever  it  may  be." 


42  THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

"Then  you'll  take  back  that  talk  of  Mrs.  Law 
rence  !" 

"I  have  made  no  talk  of  Mrs.  Lawrence,  sir/'  said 
Law,  "and  even  had  I,  I  should  take  back  nothing 
for  a  demand  like  yours.  5Tis  not  meet,  sir,  where 
no  offense  was  meant,  to  crowd  in  an  offensive  re 
mark." 

Pembroke  said  nothing.  The  situation  was  omi 
nous  enough  at  this  point.  A  sudden  gravity  and 
dignity  fell  upon  the  young  men  who  sat  there, 
schooled  in  an  etiquette  whose  first  lesson  was  that  of 
personal  courage. 

"Sirrah !"  cried  Beau  Wilson,  "I  perceive  your  pur 
pose.  If  you  prove  good  enough  to  name  lodgings 
where  you  may  be  found  by  my  friends,  I  shall  ask 
leave  to  bid  you  a  very  good  night." 

So  speaking,  Wilson  flung  out  of  the  room.  A 
silence  fell  upon  those  left  within. 

"Sirs,"  said  Law,  a  moment  later,  "I  beg  you 
to  bear  witness  that  this  is  no  matter  of  my  seek 
ing  or  accepting.  This  gentleman  is  a  stranger  to 
me.  I  hardly  got  his  name  fair." 

"Wilson  is  his  name,  sir,"  said  Pembroke,  "a  very 
good  friend  of  us  all.  He  is  of  good  family,  and  doth 
keep  his  coach-and-four  like  any  gentleman.  For 
him  we  may  vouch  very  well." 

"Wilson!"  cried  Law,  springing  now  to  his  feet. 


THE    POINT    OF    HONOR  43 

"'Tis  not  him  known  as  Beau  Wilson?  Why,  my 
dear  sirs,  his  father  was  friend  to  many  of  my  kin 
long  ago.  Why,  sir,  this  is  one  of  those  to  whom  my 
mother  bade  me  look  to  get  my  first  ways  of  London 
well  laid  out." 

"These  are  some  of  the  ways  of  London,"  said 
Pembroke,  grimly. 

"But  is  there  no  fashion  in  which  this  matter  can 
be  accommodated?" 

Pembroke  and  Castleton  looked  at  each  other,  rose 
and  passed  him,  each  raising  his  hat  and  bowing 
courteously. 

"Your  servant,  sir,"  said  the  one ;  and,  "Your  serv 
ant,  sir,"  said  the  other. 


CHAPTER  V 

DIVERS  EMPLOYMENTS  OF  JOHN  LAW 

"And  when  shall  I  send  these  garments  to  your 
Lordship?"  asked  the  haberdasher,  with  whom  Law 
was  having  speech  on  the  morning  following  the 
first  night  in  London. 

"Two  weeks  from  to-day,"  said  Law,  "in  the  after 
noon,  and  not  later  than  four  o'clock.  I  shall  have 
need  for  them." 

"Impossible!"  said  the  tradesman,  hitherto  ob 
sequious,  but  now  smitten  with  the  conviction  regard 
ing  the  limits  of  human  possibilities. 

"At  that  hour,  or  not  at  all,"  said  John  Law, 
calmly.  "At  that  time  I  shall  perhaps  be  at  my  lodg 
ings,  59  Bradwell  Street,  West.  As  I  have  said  to 
you,  I  am  not  clad  as  I  could  wish.  It  is  not  a  mat 
ter  of  your  convenience,  but  of  mine  own." 

"But,  sir,"  expostulated  the  other,  "you  order  of 

the  best.     Nothing,  I  am  sure,  save  the  utmost  of 

good  workmanship  would  please  you.    I  should  like 

a  month  of  time  upon  these  garments,  in  order  to 

(44) 


DIVEES    EMPLOYMENTS  45 

make  them  worthy  of  yourself.  Moreover,  there  are 
orders  of  the  nobility  already  in  our  hands  will  oc 
cupy  us  more  than  past  the  time  you  name.  Make  it 
three  weeks,  sir,  and  I  promise — " 

His  customer  only  shook  his  head  and  reiterated, 
"You  heard  me  well." 

The  tailor,  sore  puzzled,  not  wishing  to  lose  a  cus 
tomer  who  came  so  well  recommended,  and  yet  hesi 
tating  at  the  exactions  of  that  customer,  sat  with 
perplexity  written  upon  his  brow. 

"So !"  exclaimed  Law.  "Sir  Arthur  Pembroke 
told  me  that  you  were  a  clever  fellow  and  could  exe 
cute  exact  any  order  I  might  give  you.  Now  it  ap 
pears  to  me  you  are  like  everybody  else.  You  prate 
only  of  hardships  and  of  impossibilities." 

The  perspiration  fairly  stood  out  on  the  fore 
head  of  the  man  of  trade. 

"Sir,"  said  he,  "I  should  be  glad  to  please  not  only 
a  friend  of  Sir  Arthur  Pembroke,  but  also  a  gentle 
man  of  such  parts  as  yourself.  I  hesitate  to  prom 
ise—" 

"But  you  must  promise,"  said  John  Law. 

"Well,  then,  I  do  promise !  I  will  have  this 
apparel  at  your  place  on  the  day  which  you  name. 
'Tis  most  extraordinary,  but  the  order  shall  be  exe 
cuted." 

"As  I  thought,"  said  John  Law. 


46  THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

"But  I  must  thank  you  besides/'  resumed  the 
tradesman.  "In  good  truth  I  must  say  that  of  all  the 
young  gentlemen  who  come  hither — and  I  may  show 
the  names  of  the  best  nobility  of  London  and  of 
some  ports  beyond  seas — there  hath  never  stepped 
within  these  doors  a  better  figure  than  yourself — 
nay,  not  so  good.  And  I  am  a  judge  of  men." 

Law  looked  at  him  carelessly. 

"You  shall  make  me  none  the  easier,  nor  yourself 
the  easier,  by  soft  speech/'  said  he,  "if  you  have  not 
these  garments  ready  by  the  time  appointed.  Send 
them,  and  you  shall  have  back  the  fifty  sovereigns  by 
the  messenger,  with  perhaps  a  coin  or  so  in  addition 
if  all  be  well." 

"The  air  of  this  nobility !"  said  the  tailor,  but  smil 
ing  with  pleasure  none  the  less.  "This  is,  perhaps, 
some  affair  with  a  lady  ?"  he  added. 

"  'Tis  an  affair  with  a  lady,  and  also  with  certain 
gentlemen." 

"Oh,  so,"  said  the  tailor.  "If  it  be,  forsooth,  an 
enterprise  with  a  lady,  methinks  I  know  the  outcome 
now."  He  gazed  with  professional  pride  upon  the 
symmetrical  figure  before  him.  "You  shall  be  all  the 
better  armed  when  well  fitted  in  my  garments.  Not 
all  London  shall  furnish  a  properer  figure  of  a  man, 
nor  one  better  clad,  when  I  shall  have  done  with  you, 
sir." 


DIVEES    EMPLOYMENTS  47 

Law  but  half  heard  him,  for  he  was  already  turn 
ing  toward  the  door,  where  he  beckoned  again  for  his 
waiting  chair. 

"To  the  offices  of  the  Bank  of  England,"  he  di 
rected.  And  forthwith  he  was  again  jogging  through 
the  crowded  streets  of  London. 

The  offices  of  the  Bank  of  England,  to  which  this 
young  adventurer  now  so  nonchalantly  directed  his 
course,  were  then  not  housed  in  any  such  stately 
edifice  as  that  which  now  covers  the  heart  of  the  finan 
cial  world,  nor  did  the  location  of  the  young  and 
struggling  institution,  in  a  by-street  of  the  great 
city,  tend  to  give  dignity  to  a  concern  which  still 
lacked  importance  and  assuredness.  Thither,  then, 
might  have  gone  almost  any  young  traveler  who 
needed  a  letter  of  credit  cashed,  or  a  bill  changed 
after  the  fashion  of  the  passing  goldsmiths. 
•  Yet  it  was  not  as  mere  transient  customer  of  a 
money-changer  that  young  Law  now  sought  the  Bank 
of  England,  nor  was  it  as  a  commercial  house  that  the 
bank  then  commanded  attention.  That  bank,  young 
as  it  was,  had  already  become  a  pillar  of  the  throne 
of  England.  William,  distracted  by  wars  abroad 
and  factions  at  home,  found  his  demands  for  funds 
ever  in  excess  of  the  supply.  More  than  that,  the 
people  of  England  discovered  themselves  in  posses 
sion  of  a  currency  fluctuating,  mutilated,  and  unsta- 


48  THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

ble,  so  that  no  man  knew  what  was  his  actual  fortune. 
The  shrewd  young  financier,  Montague,  chancellor 
of  the  exchequer,  who  either  hy  wisdom  or  good  for 
tune  had  sanctioned  the  founding  of  the  Bank  of 
England,  was  at  this  very  time  addressing  himself 
to  the  question  of  a  recoinage  of  the  specie  of  the 
realm  of  England.  He  needed  help,  he  demanded 
ideas;  nor  was  he  too  particular  whence  he  obtained 
either  the  one  or  the  other. 

John  Law  was  in  London  on  no  such  blind  quest 
as  he  had  himself  declared.  He  was  here  by  the 
invitation,  secret  yet  none  the  less  obligatory,  of 
Montague,  controller  of  the  financial  policy  of  Eng 
land.  And  he  was  to  meet,  here  upon  this  fair  morn 
ing,  none  less  than  my  Lord  Somers,  keeper  of  the 
seals;  none  less  than  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  the  greatest 
mathematician  of  his  time;  none  less  than  John 
Locke,  the  most  learned  philosopher  of  the  day. 
Strong  company  this,  for  a  young  and  unknown  man, 
yet  in  the  belief  of  Montague,  himself  a  young  man 
and  a  gambler  by  instinct,  not  too  strong  for  this 
young  Scotchman  who  had  startled  the  Parliament  of 
his  own  land  by  some  of  the  most  remarkable  theories 
of  finance  which  had  ever  been  proposed  in  any  coun 
try  or  to  any  government.  As  Law  had  himself  arro 
gantly  announced,  he  was  indeed  a  philosopher  and  a 


DIVEES    EMPLOYMENTS  49 

mathematician,  young  as  he  was;  and  these  things 
Montague  was  himself  keen  enough  to  know. 

It  promised,  then,  to  be  a  strange  and  interesting 
council,  this  which  was  to  meet  to-day  at  the  Bank  of 
England,  to  adjust  the  value  of  England's  coinage; 
two  philosophers,  one  pompous  trimmer,  and  two 
gamblers;  the  younger  and  more  daring  of  whom 
was  now  calmly  threading  the  streets  of  London  on 
his  way  to  a  meeting  which  might  mean  much  to 
him. 

To  John  Law,  adventurer,  mathematician,  philos 
opher,  gambler,  it  seemed  a  natural  enough  thing 
that  he  should  be  asked  to  sit  at  the  council  table 
with  the  ablest  minds  of  the  day  and  pass  upon  ques 
tions  the  most  important.  This  was  not  what  gave 
him  trouble.  This  matter  of  the  coinage,  these 
questions  of  finance — they  were  easy.  But  how  to 
win  the  interest  of  the  tall  and  gracious  English 
girl  whom  he  had  met  by  chance  that  other  morn, 
who  had  left  no  way  open  for  a  further  meeting; 
how  to  gain  access  to  the  presence  of  that  fair  one — 
these  were  the  questions  which  to  John  Law  seemed 
of  greater  importance,  and  of  greater  difficulty  in 
the  answering. 

The  chair  drew  up  at  the  somber  quarters  where 
the  meeting  had  been  set.  Law  knew  the  place  by 


50  THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

instinct,  even  without  seeing  the  double  row  of  heavy- 
visaged  London  constabulary  which  guarded  the  en 
trance.  Here  and  there  along  the  street  were  car 
riages  and  chairs,  and  multiplied  conveyances  of  per 
sons  of  consequence.  Upon  the  narrow  pavement, 
and  within  the  little  entrance-way  that  led  to  the 
inner  room,  there  bustled  about  important-looking 
men,  some  with  hooked  noses,  most  with  florid  faces 
and  well-fed  bodies,  but  all  with  a  certain  dignity 
and  sobriety  of  expression. 

Montague  himself,  young,  smooth-faced,  dark- 
eyed,  of  active  frame,  of  mobile  and  pleasing  feat 
ures,  sat  at  the  head  of  a  long  table.  The  high- 
strung  quality  of  his  nervous  system  was  evidenced 
in  his  restless  hands,  his  attitude  frequently  changed. 

At  the  left  of  Montague  sat  Somers,  lord  keeper; 
older,  of  more  steady  demeanor,  of  fuller  figure,  of 
bold  face  and  full  light  eye,  a  politician,  not  a  pon 
derer.  At  the  right  of  Montague,  grave,  silent,  im 
passive,  now  and  again  turning  a  contemplative  eye 
about  him,  sat  that  great  man,  Sir  Isaac  Newton, 
known  then  to  every  nobleman,  and  now  to  every 
schoolboy,  of  the  world.  A  gem-like  mind,  keen, 
clear,  hard  and  brilliant,  exact  in  every  facet,  and 
forsooth  held  in  the  setting  of  an  iron  body.  Gentle, 
unmoved,  self-assured,  Sir  Isaac  Newton  was  calm  as 


DIVERS    EMPLOYMENTS  51 

morn  itself  as  he  sat  in  readiness  to  give  England 
the  benefit  of  his  wisdom. 

Beyond  sat  John  Locke,  abstruse  philosopher,  a 
man  thinner  and  darker  than  his  confrere,  with  large 
full  orb,  with  the  brow  of  the  student  and  the  man  of 
thought.  In  dignity  he  shared  with  the  learned  gen 
tleman  sitting  near  him. 

All  those  at  the  board  looked  with  some  intentness 
at  the  figure  of  the  young  man  from  the  North,  who 
came  as  the  guest  of  Montague.  With  small  formal 
ity,  the  latter  rose  and  advanced  to  meet  Law  with 
an  eager  grasp  of  the  hand.  He  made  him  known  to 
the  others  present  promptly,  but  with  a  half  apology. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "I  have  made  bold  to  ask 
the  presence  with  us  of  a  young  man  who  has  much 
concerned  himself  with  problems  such  as  those  which 
we  have  now  in  hand.  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  this  is  Mr. 
Law  of  Edinboro'.  Mr.  Law,  the  fame  of  John  Locke 
I  need  not  lay  before  you,  and  of  my  Lord  Somers 
you  need  no  advice.  Mr.  Law,  I  shall  pray  you  to  be 
seated. 

"I  shall  but  serve  as  your  mouthpiece  to  the  Court, 
gentlemen,"  resumed  Montague,  seating  himself  and 
turning  at  once  to  the  business  of  the  day.  "We  are 
all  agreed  as  to  the  urgency  of  the  case.  The  king 
needs  behind  him  in  these  times  a  contented  people. 


52  THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

You  have  already  seen  the  imminence  of  a  popular 
discontent  which  may  shake  the  throne  of  England, 
none  too  safe  in  these  days  of  change.  That  we  must 
reorganize  the  coinage  is  understood  and  agreed. 
The  question  is,  how  best  to  do  this  without  further 
unsettling  the  times.  My  Lord  Keeper,  I  must  beg 
you  for  your  suggestions." 

"Sir,"  said  Somers,  shifting  and  coughing,  "it  is 
as  you  say.  The  question  is  of  great  moment.  I 
should  suggest  a  decree  that  the  old  coin  shall  pass 
by  weight  alone  and  not  by  its  face  value.  Call  in 
all  the  coin  and  have  it  weighed,  the  government  to 
make  future  payment  to  the  owner  of  the  coin  of  the 
difference  between  its  nominal  and  its  real  value. 
The  coin  itself  should  be  restored  forthwith  to  its 
owner.  Hence  the  trade  and  the  credit  of  the  realm 
would  not  suffer.  The  money  of  the  country  would 
be  withdrawn  from  the  use  of  the  country  only  that 
short  time  wherein  it  was  in  process  of  counting. 
This,  it  occurs  to  me,  would  surely  be  a  practical 
method,  and  could  work  harm  to  none."  My  Lord 
Somers  sat  back,  puffing  out  his  chest  complacently. 

"Sir  Isaac,"  said  Montague,  "and  Mr.  Locke,  we 
must  beg  you  to  find  such  fault  as  you  may  with  this 
plan  which  my  Lord  Keeper  hath  suggested." 

Sir  Isaac  made  no  immediate  reply.    John  Locke 


DIVEKS    EMPLOYMENTS  53 

stirred  gently  in  his  chair.  "There  seemeth  much  to 
commend  in  this  plan  of  my  Lord  Keeper/*  said  he, 
leaning  slightly  forward,  "but  in  pondering  my  Lord 
Keeper's  suggestion  for  the  bringing  in  of  this  older 
coin,  I  must  ask  you  if  this  plan  can  escape  that  self 
ish  impulse  of  the  human  mind  which  seeketh  for 
personal  gain  ?  For,  look  you,  short  as  would  be  the 
time  proposed,  it  taketh  but  still  shorter  time  to  mu 
tilate  a  coin ;  and  it  doth  seem  to  me  that,  under  the 
plan  of  my  Lord  Keeper,  we  should  see  the  old  cur 
rency  of  England  mutilated  in  a  night.  Sir,  I  should 
opine  in  the  contrary  of  this  plan,  and  would  base 
my  decision  upon  certain  principles  which  I  believe 
to  be  ever  present  in  the  human  soul." 

Montague  cast  down  his  eye  for  a  moment.  "Sir 
Isaac,"  at  length  he  began,  "we  are  relying  very  much 
upon  you.  Is  there  no  suggestion  which  you  can 
offer  on  this  ticklish  theme  ?" 

The  large,  full  face  of  the  great  man  was  turned 
calmly  and  slowly  upon  the  speaker.  His  deep  and 
serene  eye  apparently  saw  not  so  much  the  man  before 
him  as  the  problem  which  lay  on  that  man's  mind. 

"Sir,"  said  Sir  Isaac,  "as  John  Locke  hath  said, 
this  is  after  all  much  a  matter  of  clear  reasoning. 
There  come  into  this  problem  two  chief  questions: 
First,  who  shall  pay  the  expense  of  the  recoinage? 


54  THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

Shall  the  Government  pay  the  expense,  or  shall  the 
owner  of  the  coin,  who  is  to  obtain  good  coin  for 
evil? 

"Again,  this  matter  applieth  not  to  one  man  but  to 
many  men.  Now  if  one  half  the  tradesmen  of 
England  rush  to  us  with  their  coin  for  reminting, 
surely  the  trade  of  the  country  will  have  left  not  suf 
ficient  medium  with  which  to  prosper.  This  I  take 
to  be  the  second  part  of  this  problem. 

"There  be  certain  persons  of  the  realm  who  claim 
that  we  may  keep  our  present  money  as  it  is,  but 
mark  from  its  face  a  certain  amount  of  value.  Look 
you,  now,  this  were  a  small  thing ;  yet,  in  my  mind,  it 
clearly  seemeth  dishonesty.  For,  if  I  owe  my  neigh 
bor  a  debt,  let  us  say  for  an  hundred  sovereigns,  shall 
I  not  be  committing  injustice  upon  my  neighbor  if  I 
pay  him  an  hundred  sovereigns  less  that  deduction 
which  the  realm  may  see  fit  thus  to  impose  upon  the 
face  of  my  sovereign?  This,  in  justice,  sirs,  I  hold 
it  to  be  not  the  part  of  science,  nor  the  part  of  hon 
esty,  neither  of  statesmanship,  to  endorse." 

"Sir  Isaac,"  cried  Montague,  striking  his  nervous 
hands  upon  the  table,  "recoin  we  must.  But  how, 
and,  as  you  say,  at  whose  expense  ?  We  are  as  far 
now  from  a  plan  as  when  we  started.  We  but  multi 
ply  difficulties.  What  we  need  now  is  not  so  much 
negative  measures  as  positive  ones.  We  must  do  this 


DIVERS    EMPLOYMENTS  55 

thing,  and  we  must  do  it  promptly.  The  question  is 
still  of  how  it  may  best  be  done.  Mr.  Law,  by  your 
leave  and  by  the  leave  of  these  gentlemen  here  pres 
ent,  I  shall  take  the  liberty  of  asking  you  if  there  doth 
occur  to  your  mind  any  plan  by  which  we  may  be 
relieved  of  certain  of  these  difficulties.  I  am  aware, 
sir,  that  you  are  much  a  student  in  these  matters." 

A  grave  silence  fell  upon  all.  John  Law,  young, 
confident  and  arrogant  in  many  ways  as  he  was,  none 
the  less  possessed  sobriety  and  depth  of  thought,  just 
as  he  possessed  the  external  dignity  to  give  it  fitting 
vehicle.  He  gazed  now  at  the  men  before  him, 
not  with  timorousness  or  trepidation.  His  face  was 
grave,  and  he  returned  their  glances  calmly  as  he 
rose  and  made  the  speech  which,  unknown  to  himself, 
was  presently  to  prove  so  important  in  his  life. 

"My  Lords,"  said  he,  "and  gentlemen  of  this  coun 
cil,  I  am  ill-fitted  to  be  present  here,  and  ill-fitted 
to  add  my  advice  to  that  which  has  been  given. 
It  is  not  for  me  to  go  beyond  the  purpose  of  this 
meeting,  or  to  lay  before  you  certain  plans  of  my  own 
regarding  the  credit  of  nations.  I  may  start,  as 
does  our  learned  friend,  simply  from  established 
principles  of  human  nature. 

"It  is  true  that  the  coinage  is  a  creature  of  the 
government.  Yet  I  believe  it  to  be  true  that  the 
government  lives  purely  upon  credit;  which  is  to 


56  THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

say,  the  confidence  of  the  people  in  that  govern 
ment. 

"I^ow,  we  may  reason  in  this  matter  perhaps  from 
the  lesser  relations  of  our  daily  life.  What  manner 
of  man  do  we  most  trust  among  those  whom  we  meet  ? 
Surely,  the  honest  man,  the  plain  man,  the  one  whose 
directness  and  integrity  we  do  not  doubt.  Truly 
you  may  witness  the  nature  of  such  a  man  in  the 
manner  of  his  speech,  in  his  mien,  in  his  conduct. 
Therefore,  my  Lords  and  gentlemen,  it  seems  to  me 
plain  that  we  shall  best  gain  confidence  for  ourselves 
if  we  act  in  the  most  simple  fashion. 

"Let  us  take  up  this  matter  directly  with  Par 
liament,  not  seeking  to  evade  the  knowledge  of  Parlia 
ment  in  any  fashion ;  for,  as  we  know,  the  Parliament 
and  the  king  are  not  the  best  bed-fellows  these  days, 
and  the  one  is  ready  enough  to  suspect  the  other. 
Let  us  have  a  bill  framed  for  Parliament — such  bill 
made  upon  the  decisions  of  these  learned  gentlemen 
present.  Above  all  things,  let  us  act  with  perfect 
openness. 

"As  to  the  plan  itself,  it  seems  that  a  few  things 
may  be  held  safe  and  sure.  Since  we  can  not  use 
the  old  coin,  then  surely  we  must  have  new  coin, 
milled  coin,  which  Charles,  the  earlier  king  of  Eng 
land,  has  decreed.  Surely,  too,  as  our  learned  friend 
has  wisely  stated,  the  loss  in  any  recoinage  ought,  in 
full  justice  and  honesty,  to  fall  not  upon  the  people 


DIVEKS    EMPLOYMENTS  57 

of  England,  but  upon  the  government  of  England. 
It  seems  equally  plain  to  me  there  must  be  a  day  set 
after  which  the  old  coin  may  no  longer  be  used.  Set 
it  some  months  ahead,  not,  as  my  Lord  Keeper  sug 
gests,  but  a  few  days ;  so  that  full  notice  may  be  given 
to  all.  Make  your  campaign  free  and  plain,  and 
place  it  so  that  it  may  be  known,  not  only  of  Parlia 
ment,  but  of  all  the  world.  Thus  you  establish  your 
selves  in  the  confidence  of  Parliament  and  in  the 
good  graces  of  this  people,  from  whom  the  taxes 
must  ultimately  come." 

Montague's  hands  smote  again  upon  the  table  with 
a  gesture  of  conviction.  John  Locke  shifted  again 
in  his  chair.  Sir  Isaac  and  the  lord  keeper  gazed 
steadfastly  at  this  young  man  who  stood  before  them, 
calmly,  assuredly,  and  yet  with  no  assumption  in  his 
mien. 

"Moreover,"  went  on  John  Law,  calmly,  "there  is 
this  further  benefit  to  be  gained,  as  I  am  sure  my 
countryman,  Mr.  Paterson,  has  long  ago  made  plain. 
It  is  not  a  question  of  the  wealth  of  England,  but  a 
question  of  the  confidence  of  the  people  in  the 
throne.  There  is  money  in  abundance  in  England. 
It  is  the  province  of  my  Lord  Chancellor  to  wheedle 
it  out  of  those  coffers  where  it  is  concealed  and  place 
it  before  the  uses  of  the  king.  Gentlemen,  it  is  con 
fidence  that  we  need.  There  will  be  no  trouble  to 
secure  loans  of  money  in  this  rich  land,  but  the  taxes 


58  THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

must  be  the  pledge  to  your  bankers.  This  new  Bank 
of  England  will  furnish  you  what  moneys  you  may 
need.  Secure  them  only  by  the  pledge  of  such  taxes 
as  you  feel  the  people  may  not  resent ;  give  the  people, 
free  of  cost,  a  coinage  which  they  can  trust ;  and  then, 
it  seems  to  me,  my  Lords  and  gentlemen,  the  problem 
of  the  revenue  may  be  thought  solved  simply  and 
easily — solved,  too,  without  irritating  either  the  peo 
ple  or  the  Parliament,  or  endangering  the  relations 
of  Parliament  and  the  throne." 

The  conviction  which  fell  upon  all  found  its  best 
expression  in  the  face  of  Montague.  The  youth  and 
nervousness  of  the  man  passed  away  upon  the  instant. 
He  sat  there  sober  and  thoughtful,  quiet  and  re 
solved. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  he  at  last,  slowly,  "my  course 
is  plain  from  this  instant.  I  shall  draw  the  bill 
and  it  shall  go  to  Parliament.  The  expense  of  this 
recoinage  I  am  sure  we  can  find  maintained  by  the 
stockholders  of  the  Bank  of  England,  and  for  their 
pay  we  shall  propose  a  new  tax  upon  the  people  of 
England.  We  shall  tax  the  windows  of  the  houses 
of  England,  and  hence  tax  not  only  the  poor  but 
the  rich  of  England,  and  that  proportionately  with 
their  wealth.  As  for  the  coin  of  England,  it  shall 
be  honest  coin,  made  honest  and  kept  honest,  at  no 
cost  to  the  people  of  old  England.  Sirs,  my  heart 
is  lighter  than  it  has  been  for  many  days." 


DIVERS   EMPLOYMENTS  59 

The  last  trace  of  formality  in  the  meeting  having 
at  length  vanished,  Montague  made  his  way  rapidly 
to  the  foot  of  the  table.  He  caught  Law  by  both  his 
hands. 

"Sir,"  said  he,  "you  helped  us  at  the  last  stage  of 
our  ascent.  A  mistake  here  had  been  ruinous,  not 
only  to  myself  and  friends,  but  to  the  safety  of  the 
whole  Government.  You  spoke  wisely  and  practi 
cally.  Sir,  if  I  can  ever  in  all  my  life  serve  you, 
command  me,  and  at  whatever  price  you  name.  I 
am  not  yet  done  with  you,  sir,"  resumed  Montague, 
casting  his  arm  boyishly  about  the  other's  shoulder 
as  they  walked  out.  "We  must  meet  again  to  discuss 
certain  problems  of  the  currency  which,  I  bethink  me, 
you  have  studied  deeply.  Keep  you  here  in  London, 
for  I  shall  have  need  of  you.  Within  the  month, 
perhaps  within  the  week,  I  shall  require  you.  Eng 
land  needs  men  who  can  do  more  than  dawdle.  Pray 
you,  keep  me  advised  where  you  may  be  found." 

There  was  ill  omen  in  the  light  reply.  "Why,  as 
to  that,  my  Lord,"  said  Law,  "if  you  should  think 
my  poor  service  useful,  your  servants  might  get  trace 
of  me  at  the  Green  Lion — unless  I  should  be  in 
prison !  No  man  knoweth  what  may  come." 

Montague  laughed  lightly.  "At  the  Green  Lion, 
or  in  Newgate  itself,"  said  he.  "Be  ready,  for  I 
have  not  yet  done  with  you." 


CHAPTEK  VI 

THE    RESOLUTION    OF    ME.    LAW 

The  problems  of  England's  troubled  finances,  the 
questions  of  the  coinage,  the  gossip  of  the  king's 
embroilments  with  the  Parliament — these  things,  it 
may  again  be  said,  occupied  Law's  mind  far  less 
than  the  question  of  gaining  audience  with  his  fair 
rescuer  of  the  morn  at  Sadler's  Wells.  This  was  the 
puzzle  which,  revolve  it  as  he  might,  not  even  his 
audacious  wit  was  able  to  provide  with  plausible 
solution.  He  pondered  the  matter  in  a  hundred 
different  pleasing  phases  as  he  passed  from  the  Bank 
of  England  through  the  crowded  streets  of  London, 
and  so  at  length  found  himself  at  the  shabby  little 
lodgings  in  Bradwell  Street,  where  he  and  his  brother 
had,  for  the  time,  taken  up  their  quarters. 

"It  starteth  well,  my  boy,"  cried  he,  gaily,  to  his 
brother,  when  at  length  he  had  found  his  way  up 
the  narrow  stair  into  the  little  room,  and  discovered 
Will  patiently  awaiting  his  return.  "Already  two 
of  my  errands  are  well  acquit." 
(60) 


THE    RESOLUTION    OF   MR.    LAW      61 

"You  have,  then,  sent  the  letters  to  our  goldsmith 
here  ?"  said  Will. 

"Now,  to  say  truth,  I  had  not  thought  of  that. 
But  letters  of  credit — why  need  we  trouble  over  such 
matters?  These  English  are  but  babes.  Give  me 
a  night  or  so  in  the  week  at  the  Green  Lion,  and 
we'll  need  no  letters  of  credit,  Will.  Look  at  your 
purse,  boy — since  you  are  the  thrifty  cashier  of  our 
firm!" 

"I  like  not  this  sort  of  gold,"  said  Will  Law,  set 
ting  his  lips  judicially. 

"Yet.  it  seems  to  purchase  well  as  any,"  said 
the  other,  indifferently.  "At  least,  such  is  my  hope, 
for  I  have  made  debt  against  our  purse  of  some  fifty 
sovereigns — some  little  apparel  which  I  have  or 
dered.  For,  look  you,  Will,  I  must  be  clothed  proper. 
In  these  days,  as  I  may  tell  you,  I  am  to  meet  such 
men  as  Montague,  chancellor  of  the  exchequer — my 
Lord  Keeper  Somers — Sir  Isaac  Newton — Mr.  John 
Locke — gentry  of  that  sort.  It  is  fitting  I  should 
have  better  garb  than  this  which  we  have  brought 
with  us." 

"You  are  ever  free  with  some  mad  jest  or  other, 
Jack;  but  what  is  this  new  madness  of  which  you 
speak?" 

"No  madness  at  all,  my  dear  boy;  for  in  fact  I 
have  but  come  from  the  council  chamber,  where  I 


62  THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

have  met  these  very  gentlemen  whom  I  have  named  to 
you.  But  pray  you  note,  my  dear  brother,  there  are 
those  who  hold  John  Law,  and  his  studies,  not  so 
light  as  doth  his  own  brother.  For  myself,  the  mat 
ter  furnishes  no  surprise  at  all.  As  for  you,  you 
had  never  confidence  in  me,  nor  in  yourself.  Gad! 
Will,  hadst  but  the  courage  of  a  flea,  what  days  we 
two  might  have  together  here  in  this  old  town !" 

"I  want  none  of  such  da}rs,  Jack,"  said  Will  Law, 
soberly.  "I  care  most  to  see  you  settled  in  some 
decent  way  of  living.  What  will  your  mother  say, 
if  we  but  go  on  gaming  and  roistering,  with  dangers 
of  some  sudden  quarrel — as  this  which  has  already 
sprung  up — with  no  given  aim  in  life,  with  nothing 
certain  for  an  ambition — " 

"Now,  Will,"  began  his  brother,  yet  with  no  petu 
lance  in  his  tone,  "pray  go  not  too  hard  with  me  at 
the  start.  I  thought  I  had  done  fairly  well,  to  sit 
at  the  table  of  the  council  of  coinage  on  my  first 
day  in  London.  'Tis  not  every  young  man  gets  so 
far  as  that.  Come,  now,  Will !" 

"But  after  all,  there  must  be  serious  purpose." 

"Know  then,"  cried  the  elder  man,  suddenly,  "that 
I  have  found  such  serious  purpose !" 

The  speaker  stood  looking  out  of  the  window,  his 
eye  fixed  out  across  the  roofs  of  London.  There  had 
now  fallen  from  his  face  all  trace  of  levity,  and  into 


THE   RESOLUTION   OP   MR.   LAW      63 

his  eye  and  mouth  there  came  reflex  of  the  decision 
of  his  speech.  Will  stirred  in  his  chair,  and  at  length 
the  two  faced  each  other. 

"And  pray,  what  is  this  sudden  resolution,  Jack?" 
said  Will  Law. 

"If  I  must  tell  you,  it  is  simply  this:  I  am  re 
solved  to  marry  the  girl  we  met  at  Sadler's  Wells." 

"How— what— ?" 

"Yes,  how — what — ?"  repeated  his  brother,  mock 
ingly. 

"But  I  would  ask,  which?" 

"There  was  but  one,"  said  John  Law.  "The  tall 
one,  with  the  brassy-brown,  copper-red  hair,  the 
bright  blue  eye,  and  the  figure  of  a  queen.  Her  like 
is  not  in  all  the  world !" 

"Methought  'twas  more  like  to  be  the  other,"  re 
plied  Will.  "Yet  you — how  dare  you  think  thus 
of  that  lady  ?  Why,  Jack,  'twas  the  Lady  Catharine 
Knollys,  sister  to  the  Earl  of  Banbury !" 

Law  did  not  at  once  make  any  answer.  He  turned 
to  the  dressing-table  and  began  making  such  shift 
as  he  could  to  better  his  appearance. 

"Will,"  said  he,  at  length,  "you  are,  as  ever,  a 
babe  and  a  suckling.  I  quite  despair  of  you.  'Twould 
serve  no  purpose  to  explain  anything  to  so  faint  a 
heart  as  yours.  But  you  may  come  with  me." 

"And  whither?" 


64  THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

"Whither?  Where  else,  than  to  the  residence  of 
this  same  lady!  Look  you,  I  have  learned  this. 
She  is,  as  you  say,  the  sister  of  the  Earl  of  Banbury, 
and  is  for  the  time  at  the  town  house  in  Knightwell 
Terrace.  Moreover,  if  that  news  be  worth  while 
to  so  white-feathered  a  swain  as  yourself,  the  other 
damsel,  the  dark  one — the  one  with  the  mighty  pretty 
little  foot — lives  there  for  the  time  as  the  guest  of 
Lady  Catharine.  They  are  rated  thick  as  peas  in  a 
pod.  True,  we  are  strangers,  yet  I  venture  we  have 
made  a  beginning,  and  if  we  venture  more  we  may 
better  that  beginning.  Should  I  falter,  when  luck 
gave  me  the  run  of  trente  et  le  va  but  yesterday? 
Nay,  ever  follow  fortune  hard,  and  she  waits  for 
you." 

"Yes,"  said  Will,  scornfully.  "You  would  get  the 
name  of  gambler,  and  add  to  it  the  name  of  fortune- 
hunting,  heiress-seeking  adventurer." 

"Not  so,"  replied  John  Law,  taking  snuff  calmly 
and  still  keeping  the  evenness  of  his  temper.  "My 
own  fortune,  as  I  admit,  I  keep  safe  at  the  Green 
Lion.  For  the  rest,  I  seek  at  the  start  only  respect 
ful  footing  with  this  maid  herself.  When  first  I 
saw  her,  I  knew  well  enough  how  the  end  would 
be.  We  were  made  for  each  other.  This  whole 
world  was  made  for  us  both.  Will,  boy,  I  could  not 
live  without  the  Lady  Catharine  Knollys!" 


THE    RESOLUTION    OF    MR.    LAW     65 

"Oh,  cease  such  talk,  Jack!  'Tis  ill-mannered, 
such  presumption  regarding  a  lady,  even  had  you 
known  her  long.  Besides,  'tis  but  another  of  your 
fancies,  Jack,"  said  Will.  "Wilt  never  make  an 
end  of  such  follies  ?" 

"Yes,  my  boy,"  said  his  brother,  gravely.  "I  have 
made  an  end.  Indeed,  I  made  it  the  other  morning 
at  Sadler's  Wells/' 

"Methinks,"  said  Will,  dryly,  "that  it  might  be  well 
first  to  be  sure  that  you  can  win  past  the  front  door 
of  the  house  of  Knollys." 

John  Law  still  kept  both  his  temper  and  his  con 
fidence. 

"Come  with  me,"  said  he,  blithely,  "and  I  will  show 
you  how  that  thing  may  be  done." 


CHAPTEE  VII 

TWO  MAIDS  A-BROIDERING 

"Now  a  plague  take  all  created  things,  Lady 
Kitty!"  cried  Mary  Connynge,  petulantly  flinging 
down  a  silken  pattern  over  which  she  had  pretended 
to  be  engaged.  "There  are  devils  in  the  skeins  to 
day.  HI  try  no  more  with't." 

"Fie !  For  shame,  Mary  Connynge,"  replied  Lady 
Catharine  Knollys,  reprovingly.  "So  far  from  better 
temperance  of  speech,  didst  ever  hear  of  the  virtue 
of  perseverance?  Now,  for  my  own  part — " 

"And  what,  for  your  own  part?  Have  I  no  eyes 
to  see  that  thou'rt  puttering  over  the  same  corner 
this  last  half  hour?  What  is  it  thou  art  making 
to-day?" 

The  Lady  Catharine  paused  for  a  moment  and 
held  her  embroidery  frame  away  from  her  at  arm's 
length,  looking  at  it  with  brow  puckering  into  a 
perplexed  frown. 

"I   was   working  a   knight,"   said   she.     "A   tall 

one—" 

"Yes,  a  tall  one,  with  yellow  hair,  I  warrant." 
(66) 


TWO    MAIDS    A-BROIDERING  67 

"Why,  so  it  was.  I  was  but  seeking  floss  of  the 
right  hue,  and  found  it  difficult." 

"And  with  blue  eyes?" 

"True ;  or  perhaps  gray.  I  could  not  state  which. 
I  had  naught  in  my  box  would  serve  to  suit  me  for 
the  eyes.  But  how  know  you  this,  Mary  Connynge  ?" 
asked  the  Lady  Catharine. 

"Because  I  was  making  some  such  knight  for  my 
self,"  replied  the  other.  "See !  He  was  to  have  been 
tall,  of  good  figure,  wearing  a  wide  hat  and  plume 
withal.  But  lest  I  spoil  him,  my  knight — now  a 
plague  take  me  indeed  if  I  do  not  ruin  him  com 
plete  !"  So  saying,  she  drew  with  vengeful  fingers 
at  the  intricately  woven  silks  until  she  had  indeed 
undone  all  that  had  gone  before. 

"Nay,  nay!  Mary  Connynge!  Do  not  so!"  re 
plied  Lady  Catharine  in  expostulation.  "The  poor 
knight,  how  could  he  help  himself?  Why,  as  for 
mine,  though  I  find  him  not  all  I  could  wish,  I'll 
e'en  be  patient  as  I  may,  and  seek  if  I  may  not 
mend  him.  These  knights,  you  know,  are  most  dif 
ficult.  'Tis  hard  to  make  them  perfect." 

Mary  Connynge  sat  with  her  hands  in  her  lap, 
looking  idly  out  of  the  window  and  scarce  heeding 
the  despoiled  fabric  which  lay  on  her  lap.  "Come, 
confess,  Lady  Kitty,"  said  she  at  length,  turning 
toward  her  friend.  "Wert  not  trying  to  copy  a 


68  THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

knight  of  a  hedge-row  after  all?  Did  not  a  certain 
tall  young  knight,  with  eyes  of  blue,  or  gray,  or 
the  like,  give  pattern  for  your  sampler  while  you 
were  broidering  to-day  ?" 

"Fie !  For  shame !"  again  replied  Lady  Catharine, 
flushing  none  the  less.  "Kather  ask,  does  not  such  a 
thought  come  over  thine  own  broidering?  But  as 
to  the  hedge-row,  surely  the  gentleman  explained  it 
all  proper  enough;  and  I  am  sure — yes,  I  am  very 
sure — that  my  brother  Charles  had  quite  approved  of 
my  giving  the  injured  young  man  the  lift  in  the 
coach — " 

"Provided  that  your  brother  Charles  had  ever  heard 
of  such  a  thing !" 

"Well,  of  that,  to  be  sure,  why  trouble  my  brother 
over  such  a  trifle,  when  'twas  so  obviously  proper?" 
argued  Lady  Catharine,  bravely.  "And  certainly,  if 
we  come  to  knights  and  the  like,  good  chivalry  has 
ever  demanded  succor  for  those  in  distress;  and  if, 
forsooth,  it  was  two  damsels  in  a  comfortable  coach 
who  rescued  two  knights  from  underneath  a  hedge 
row,  why,  such  is  but  the  way  of  these  modern  days, 
when  knights  go  seeking  no  more  for  adventures 
and  ladies  fair;  as  you  very  well  know." 

"As  I  do  not  know,  Lady  Catharine,"  replied 
Mary  Connynge.  "To  the  contrary,  'twould  not  sur- 


TWO    MAIDS    A-BROIDEKING  69 

prise  me  to  learn  that  he  would  not  shrink  from  any 
adventure  which  might  offer." 

"You  mean — that  is — you  mean  the  tall  one,  him 
who  said  he  was  Mr.  Law  of  Lauriston  ?" 

"Well,  perhaps.  Though  I  must  say/'  replied 
Mary  Connynge,  with  indirection,  "that  I  fancy  the 
other  far  more,  he  being  not  so  forward,  nor  so  full 
of  pure  conceit.  I  like  not  a  man  so  confident." 
This  with  an  eye  cast  down,  as  much  as  though  there 
were  present  in  the  room  some  man  subject  to  her 
coquetry. 

"Why,  I  had  not  found  him  offering  such  an 
air,"  replied  Lady  Catharine,  judicially.  "I  had  but 
thought  him  frank  enough,  and  truly  most  courte 
ous." 

"Why,  truly,"  replied  Mary  Connynge.  "But  saw 
you  naught  in  his  eye  ?" 

"Why,  but  that  it  was  blue,  or  gray,"  replied  Lady 
Catharine. 

"Oh,  ho!  then  my  lady  did  look  a  bit,  after 
all !  And  so  this  is  why  the  knight  flourisheth  so 
bravely  in  silks  to-day — Fie !  but  a  mere  adventurer, 
Lady  Kitty.  He  says  he  is  Law  of  Lauriston;  but 
what  proof  doth  he  offer?  And  did  he  find  such 
proof,  it  is  proof  of  what  ?  For  my  part,  I  did  never 
hear  of  Lauriston  nor  its  owner." 


70  THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

"Ah,  but  that  I  have,  to  the  contrary,"  said  Lady 
Catharine.  "John  Law's  father  was  a  goldsmith, 
and  it  was  he  who  bought  the  properties  of  Lauris- 
ton  and  Randleston.  And  so  far  from  John  Law 
being  ill-born,  why,  his  mother  was  Jean  Campbell, 
kinswoman  of  the  Campbell,  Duke  of  Argyll;  and  a 
mighty  important  man  is  the  Duke  of  Argyll  these 
days,  I  may  tell  you,  as  the  king's  army  hath  dis 
covered  before  this.  You  see,  I  have  not  talked  with 
my  brother  about  these  things  for  naught." 

"So  you  make  excuse  for  this  Mr.  Law  of  Lauris- 
ton,"  said  Mary  Connynge.  "Well,  I  like  better  a 
knight  who  comes  on  his  own  horse,  or  in  his  own 
chariot,  and  who  rescues  me  when  I  am  in  trouble, 
rather  than  asks  me  to  give  him  aid.  But,  as  to  that, 
what  matter  ?  We  set  those  highway  travelers  down, 
and  there  was  an  end  of  it.  We  shall  never  see  either 
of  them  again." 

"Of  course  not,"  said  Lady  Catharine. 

"It  were  impossible." 

"Oh,  quite  impossible !" 

Both  the  young  women  sighed,  and  both  looked  out 
of  the  window. 

"Because,"  said  Mary  Connynge,  "they  are  but 
strangers.  That  talk  of  having  letters  may  be  but 
deceit.  They  themselves  may  be  coiners.  I  have 
heard  it  said  that  coiners  are  monstrous  bold." 


TWO    MAIDS    A-BEOIDEEING  71 

"To  be  sure,  he  mentioned  Sir  Arthur  Pembroke/' 
ventured  Lady  Catharine. 

I  "Oh !  And  be  sure  Sir  Arthur  Pembroke  will  take 
pains  enough  that  no  tall  young  man,  who  offers 
roses  to  ladies  on  first  acquaintance,  shall  ever  have 
opportunity  to  present  himself  to  Lady  Catharine 
Knollys.  Nay,  nay !  There  will  be  no  introduction 
from  that  source,  of  that  be  sure.  Sir  Arthur 
is  jealous  as  a  wolf  of  thee  already,  Lady  Kitty. 
See!  He  hath  followed  thee  about  like  a  dog  for 
three  years.  And  after  all,  why  not  reward  him, 
Lady  Kitty?  Indeed,  but  the  other  day  thou  wert 
upon  the  very  point  of  giving  him  his  answer,  for 
thou  saidst  to  me  that  he  sure  had  the  prettiest  eyes 
of  any  man  in  London.  Pray,  are  Sir  Arthur's  eyes 
blue,  or  gray — or  what  ?  And  can  you  match  his  eyes 
among  the  color  of  your  flosses  ?" 

"It  might  be,"  said  Lady  Catharine,  musingly, 
"that  he  would  some  day  find  means  to  send  us 
word."  « 

"Who?    Sir  Arthur?" 

"No.    The  young  man,  Mr.  Law  of  Lauriston." 

"Yes ;  or  he  might  come  himself,",  replied  Mary 
Conn}nige. 

"Fie !    He  dare  not !" 

"Oh,  but  be  not  too  sure.  Now  suppose  he  did 
come — 'twill  do  no  harm  for  us  to  suppose  so  much  as 


72  THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

that.  Suppose  he  stood  there  at  your  very  door, 
Lady  Kitty.  Then  what  would  you  do  ?" 

"Do!  Why,  tell  James  that  we  were  not  in,  and 
never  should  be,  and  request  the  young  man  to  leave 
at  once." 

"And  never  let  him  pass  the  door  again." 

"Certainly  not!  'Twould  be  presumption.  But 
then" — this  with  a  gentle  sigh — "we  need  not  trouble 
ourselves  with  this.  I  doubt  not  he  hath  forgot  us 
long  ago,  just  as  indeed  we  have  forgotten  him — 
though  I  would  say — .  But  I  half  believe  he  hit 
thee,  girl,  with  his  boldness  and  his  bow,  and  his 
fearlessness  withal." 

"Who,  I  ?  Why,  heavens !  Lady  Kitty !  The  idea 
never  came  to  my  mind.  Indeed  no,  not  for  an  in 
stant.  Of  course,  as  you  say,  'twas  but  a  passing 
occurrence,  and  'twas  all  forgot.  But,  by  the  way, 
Lady  Kitty,  go  we  to  Sadler's  Wells  to-morrow 
morn?" 

"I*  see  no  reason  for  not  going,"  replied  Lady 
Catharine.  "And  we  may  drive  about,  the  same  way 
we  took  the  other  morn.  I  will  show  you  the  same 
spot  where  he  stood  and  bowed  so  handsomely,  and 
made  so  little  of  the  fight  with  the  robbers  the  night 
before,  as  though  'twere  trifling  enough;  and  made 
so  little  of  his  poverty,  as  though  he  were  owner  of 
the  king's  coin." 


TWO    MAIDS    A-BROIDERING  73 

we  shall  never  see  him  more/'  said  Mary 
Connynge. 

"To  be  sure  not.  But  just  to  show  you — see !  He 
stood  thus,  his  hat  off,  his  eye  laughing,  I  pledge 
you,  as  though  for  some  good  jest  he  had.  And 
'twas  'your  pardon,  ladies !'  he  said,  as  though  he  were 
indeed  nobleman  himself.  See !  'Twas  thus." 

What  pantomime  might  have  followed  did  not  ap 
pear,  for  at  that  moment  the  butler  appeared  at  the 
door  with  an  admonitory  cough.  "If  you  please, 
your  Ladyship,"  said  he,  "there  are  two  persons  wait 
ing.  They — that  is  to  say,  he — one  of  them,  asks 
for  admission  to  your  Ladyship." 

"What  name  does  he  offer,  James  ?" 

"Mr.  John  Law  of  Lauriston,  your  Ladyship,  is 
the  name  he  sends.  He  says,  if  your  Ladyship  please, 
that  he  has  brought  with  him  something  which  your 
Ladyship  left  behind,  if  your  Ladyship  please." 

Lady  Catharine  and  Mary,  Connynge  had  both 
arisen  and  drawn  together,  and  they  now  turned 
each  a  swift  half  glance  upon  the  other. 

"Are  these  gentlemen  waiting  without  the  street 
door  ?"  asked  Lady  Catharine. 

"No,  your  Ladyship.  That  is  to  say,-  before  I 
thought,  I  allowed  the  tall -one  to  come  within." 

"Oh,  well  then,  you  ise'e,  Mary  ;Cohiiynge,"  re 
plied  Lady  Catharine,  with  the  pirikiflush  rising  in 


74  THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

her  cheek,  "it  were  rude  to  turn  them  now  from  our 
door,  since  they  have  already  been  admitted." 

"Yes,  we  will  send  to  the  library  for  your  brother," 
said  Mary  Connynge,  dimpling  at  the  corners  of  her 
mouth. 

"No,  I  think  it  not  needful  to  do  that,"  replied 
Lady  Catharine,  "but  we  should  perhaps  learn  what 
this  young  man  brings,  and  then  we'll  see  to  it  that 
we  chide  him  so  that  he'll  no  more  presume  upon 
our  kindness.  My  brother  need  not  know,  and  we 
ourselves  will  end  this  forwardness  at  once,  Mary 
Connynge,  you  and  I.  James,  you  may  bring  the 
gentlemen  in." 

Enter,  therefore,  John  Law  and  his  brother  Will, 
the  former  seeming  thus  with  ease  to  have  made  good 
his  promise  to  win  past  the  door  of  the  Earl  of  Ban- 
bury. 

John  Law,  as  on  the  morning  of  the  roadside 
meeting,  approached  in  advance  of  his  more  timid 
brother,  though  both  bowed  deeply  as  they  entered. 
He  bowed  again  respectfully,  his  eyes  not  wandering 
hither  and  yon  upon  the  splendors  of  this  great 
room  in  an  ancestral  home  of  England.  His  gaze 
was  fixed  rather  upon  the  beauty  of  the  tall  girl  be 
fore  him,  whose  eyes,  now  round  and  startled,  were 
not  quite  able  to  be  cold  nor  yet  to  be  quite  cast 
down;  whose  white  throat  throbbed  a  bit  under  its 


TWO    MAIDS    A-BROIDEKING  75 

golden  chain ;  whose  bosom  rose  and  fell  perceptibly 
beneath  its  falls  of  snowy  laces. 

"Lady  Catharine  Knollys,"  said  John  Law,  his 
voice  deep  and  even,  and  showing  no  false  note  of 
embarrassment,  "we  come,  as  you  may  see,  to  make 
our  respects  to  yourself  and  your  friend,  and  to 
thank  you  for  your  kindness  to  two  strangers." 

"To  two  strangers,  Mr.  Law/*  said  Lady  Catha 
rine,  pointedly. 

"Yes" — and  the  answering  smile  was  hard  to  be 
denied — "to  two  strangers  who  are  still  strangers. 
I  did  but  bethink  me  it  was  sweet  to  have  such  kind 
ness.  We  were  advised  that  London  was  cruel  cold, 
and  that  all  folk  of  this  city  hated  their  fellow- 
men.  So,  since  'twas  welcome  to  be  thus  kindly 
entreated,  I  believed  it  but  the  act  of  courtesy  to  ex 
press  our  thanks  more  seeming  than  we  might  as 
that  we  were  two  beggars  by  the  wayside.  Therefore, 
I  pay  the  first  flower  of  my  perpetual  tribute."  He 
bowed  and  extended,  as  he  spoke,  a  deep  red  rose. 
His  eye,  though  still  direct,  was  as  much  imploring 
as  it  was  bold. 

Instinctively  Mary  Connynge  and  Lady  Catharine 
had  drawn  together,  retreating  somewhat  from  this 
intrusion.  They  were  now  standing,  like  any  school 
girls,  looking  timidly  over  their  shoulders,  as  he  ad 
vanced.  Lady  Catharine  hesitated,  and  yet  she  moved 


76  THE   MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

forward  a  half  pace,  as  though  bidden  by  some  un 
heard  voice.  "  'Twas  nothing,  what  we  did  for  you 
and  your  brother/*  said  she.  She  extended  her  hand 
as  she  spoke.  "As  for  the  flower,  I  think — I  think 
a  rose  is  a  sweet-pretty  thing." 

She  bent  her  cheek  above  the  blossom,  and  whether 
the  cheek  or  the  petal  were  the  redder,  who  should 
say?  If  there  were  any  ill  at  ease  in  that  room,  it 
was  not  Law  of  Lauriston.  He  stood  calm  as  though 
there  by  right.  It  was  an  escapade,  an  adventure, 
without  doubt,  as  both  these  young  women  saw  plain 
ly  enough.  And  now,  what  to  do  with  this  adventure 
since  it  had  arrived? 

"Sir,"  said  Lady  Catharine  at  length,  "I  am  sure 
you  must  be  wearied  with  the  heavy  heats  of  the 
town.  Your  brother  must  still  be  weak  from  his 
hurt.  Pray  you,  be  seated."  She  placed  the  rose 
upon  the  tabouret  as  she  passed,  and  presently 
pulled  at  the  bell  cord. 

"James,"  said  she,  standing  very  erect  and  full  of 
dignity,,  "go  to  the  library  and  see  if  Sir  Charles  be 
within." 

When  the  butler's  solemn  cough  again  gave  warn 
ing,  it  was  to  bring  information  which  may  or  may 
not  have  been  news  to  Lady  Catharine.  "Your 
Ladyship,"  said  he,  "Sir  .Charles  is  said  to  have  taken 
carriage  an  hour  ago,  and  left  no  word." 


TWO   MAIDS   A-BKOIDEKING  77 

"Send  me  Cecile,  James/'  said  Lady  Catharine, 
and  again  the  butler  vanished. 

"Cecile,"  said  she,  as  the  maid  at  length  ap 
peared,  "you  may  serve  us  with  tea." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

CATHAEINE  KNOLLYS 

<cYou  mistake,  sir!  I  am  no  light  o'  love,  John 
Law !" 

Thus  spoke  Catharine  Knollys.  She  stood  near 
the  door  of  the  great  drawing-room  of  the  Knollys 
mansion,  her  figure  beseeming  well  its  framing  of 
deep  hangings  and  rich  tapestries.  Her  eyes  were 
wide  and  flashing,  her  cheeks  deeply  pink,  the  sweet 
bow  of  her  lips  half  a-quiver  in  her  vehemence.  Her 
surpassing  personal  beauty,  rich,  ripe,  enticing,  gave 
more  than  sufficient  challenge  for  the  fiery  blood  of 
the  young  man  before  her. 

It  was  less  than  two  weeks  since  these  two  had 
met.  Surely  the  flood  of  time  had  run  swiftly  in 
those  few  days.  Not  a  day  had  passed  that  Law 
had  not  met  Catharine  Knollys,  nor  had  yet  one  meet 
ing  been  such  as  the  girl  in  her  own  conscience  dared 
call  better  than  clandestine,  even  though  they  met, 
as  now,  under  her  own  roof.  Yet,  reason  as  she  liked, 
struggle  as  she  could,  Catharine  Knollys  had  not 
(78) 


CATHAEINE   KNOLLYS  79 

yet  been  quite  able  to  end  this  swift  voyaging  on  the 
flood  of  fate.  It  was  so  strange,  so  new,  so  sweet 
withal,  this  coming  of  her  suitor,  as  from  the  dark 
ness  of  some  unknown  star,  so  bold,  so  strong,  so 
confident,  and  yet  so  humble !  All  the  old  song  of 
the  ages  thrilled  within  her  soul,  and  each  day  its 
compelling  melody  had  accession.  That  this  de 
lirious  softening  of  all  her  senses  meant  danger,  the 
Lady  Catharine  could  not  deny.  Yet  could  aught 
of  earth  be  wrong  when  it  spelled  such  happiness, 
such  sweetness — when  the  sound  of  a  footfall  sent 
her  blood  going  the  faster,  when  the  sight  of  a  tall 
form,  the  ring  of  a  vibrant  tone,  caused  her  limbs 
to  weaken,  Her  throat  to  choke? 

But  ah !  whence  and  why  this  spell,  this  sorcery — 
why  this  sweetness  filling  all  her  being,  when,  after 
all,  duty  and  seemliness  bade  it  all  to  end,  as  end  it 
must,  to-day?  Thus  had  the  Lady  Catharine  re 
flected  but  the  hour  before  John  Law  came;  her 
knight  of  dreams — tall,  yellow-haired,  blue-eyed,  bold 
and  tender,  and  surely  speaking  truth  if  truth  dwelt 
beneath  the  stars.  Now  he  would  come — now  he  had 
come  again.  Here  was  his  red,  red  rose  once  more. 
Here,  burning  in  her  ears,  singing  in  her  heart,  were 
his  avowing,  pleading  words.  And  this  must  end ! 

John  Law  looked  at  her  calmly,  but  said  nothing. 
One  hand,  in  a  gesture  customary  with  him,  flicked 


80  THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

lightly  at  the  deep  cuff  of  the  other  wrist,  and  this 
nervous  movement  was  the  sole  betrayal  of  his  uneasi 
ness. 

"You  come  to  this  house  time  and  again/'  resumed 
Catharine  Knollys,  "as  though  it  were  an  ancient 
right  on  your  part,  as  though  you  had  always  been 
a  friend  of  this  family.  And  yet — " 

"And  so  I  have  been,"  broke  in  her  suitor.  "My 
people  were  friends  of  yours  before  we  two  were 
born.  Why,  then,  should  you  advise  your  servant, 
as  you  have,  fairly  to  deny  me  admission  at  the 
door?" 

"I  have  done  ill  enough  to  admit  you.  Had  I 
"dreamed  of  this  last  presumption  on  your  part  I 
should  never  have  seen  your  face  again." 

"'Tis  not  presumption,"  said  the  young  man,  his 
voice  low  and  even,  though  ringing  with  the  feeling 
to  which  even  he  dared  not  give  full  expression. 
"I  myself  might  call  this  presumption  in  another, 
but  with  myself  'tis  otherwise." 

"Sir,"  said  Lady  Catharine  Knollys,  "you  speak 
as  one  not  of  good  mind." 

"Not  of  good  mind !"  broke  out  John  Law.  "Say 
rather  of  mind  too  good  to  doubt,  or  dally,  or  tem 
porize.  Why,  'tis  plain  as  the  plan  of  fate !  It  was 
in  the  stars  that  I  should  come  to  you.  This  face, 
this  form,  this  heart,  this  soul — I  shall  see  nothing 


CATHARINE   KNOLLYS  81 

else  so  long  as  I  live !  Oh,  I  feel  myself  unworthy ; 
you  have  right  to  think  me  of  no  station.  Yet  some 
day  I  shall  bring  to  you  all  that  wealth  can  buy,  all 
that  station  can  mean.  Catharine — dear  Lady  Kitty 
— dear  Kate — " 

"I  like  not  so  fast  a  soothsaying  in  any  suitor  of 
mine/'  replied  Lady  Catharine,  hotly,  "and  this  shall 
go  no  further."  Her  hand  restrained  him. 

"Then  you  find  me  distasteful  ?  You  would  ban 
ish  me  ?  I  could  not  learn  to  endure  it !" 

Lady  Catharine  looked  at  him  curiously.  "Act 
ually,  sir,"  said  she,  "you  cause  me  to  chill.  I  could 
half  fear  you.  What  is  in  your  heart  ?  Surely,  this 
is  a  strange  love-making." 

"And  by  that,"  cried  John  Law,  "know,  then  the 
better  of  the  truth.  Listen !  I  know !  And  this  is 
what  I  know — that  I  shall  succeed,  and  that  I  shall 
love  you  always !" 

"  'Tis  what  one  hears  often  from  men,  in  one  form 
or  another,"  said  the  girl,  coolly,  seating  herself  as 
she  spoke. 

"Talk  not  to  me  of  other  men — I'll  not  brook  it !" 
cried  he,  advancing  toward  her  a  few  rapid  paces. 
"Think  you  I  have  no  heart  ?"  His  eye  gleamed,  and 
he  came  on  yet  a  step  in  his  strange  wooing.  "Your 
face  is  here,  here,"  he  cried,  "deep  in  my  heart! 
I  must  always  look  upon  it,  or  I  am  a  lost  man !" 


82  THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

"'Tis  a  face  not  so  fair  as  that/'  said  the  Lady 
Catharine,  demurely. 

"'Tis  the  fairest  face  in  England,  or  in  the  world !" 
cried  her  lover;  and  now  he  was  close  at  her  side. 
Her  hand,  she  knew  not  how,  rested  in  his  own. 
Something  of  the  honesty  and  freedom  from  coquetry 
of  the  young  woman's  nature  showed  in  her  next 
speech,  inconsequent,  illogical,  almost  unmaidenly 
in  its  swift  sincerity  and  candor. 

""Pis  a  face  but  blemished,"  said  she,  slowly,  the 
color  rising  to  her  cheek.  "See !  Here  is  the  birth 
mark  of  the  house  of  Knollys.  They  tell  me — my 
very  good  friends  tell  me,  that  this  is  the  mark  of 
shame,  the  bar  sinister  of  the  hand  of  justice.  You 
know  the  story  of  our  house." 

"Somewhat  of  it,"  said  Law. 

"My  brother  is  not  served  of  the  writ  when  Parlia 
ment  is  called.  This  you  know.  Tell  me  why  ?" 

"I  know  the  so-called  reason,"  replied  John  Law. 
"'Twas  brought  out  in  his  late  case  at  the  King's 
Bench." 

"True.  'Twas  said  that  my  grandfather,  past 
eighty,  was  not  the  father  of  those  children  of  his 
second  wife.  There  is  talk  that — " 

"'Twas  three  generations  ago,  this  talk  of  the 
Knollys  shortcoming.  I  am  not  eighty.  I  am 
twenty-four,  and  I  love  you,  Catharine  Knollys." 


CATHARINE   KNOLLYS  83 

"It  was  three  generations  ago,"  said  the  Lady 
Catharine,  slowly  and  musingly,  as  though  she  had 
not  heard  the  speech  of  her  suitor.  "Three  genera 
tions  ago.  Yet  never  since  then  hath  there  been 
clean  name  for  the  Banbury  estate.  Never  yet  hath 
its  peer  sat  in  his  rightful  place  in  Parliament.  And 
never  yet  hath  eldest  daughter  of  this  house  failed 
to  show  this  mark  of  shame,  this  unpurged  contempt 
for  that  which  is  ordained.  Surely  it  would  seem 
fate  holds  us  in  its  hands." 

"You  tell  me  these  things,"  said  John  Law,  "be 
cause  you  feel  it  is  right  to  tell  them.  And  I  tell 
you  of  my  future,  as  you  tell  me  of  your  past.  Why  ? 
Because,  Lady  Catharine  Knollys,  it  has  already 
come  to  matter  of  faith  between  us." 

The  girl  leaned  back  against  the  wall  near  which 
she  had  seated  herself.  The  young  man  bent  for 
ward,  taking  both  her  hands  quietly  in  his  own  now, 
and  gazing  steadily  into  her  eyes.  There  was  no 
triumph  in  his  gaze.  Perhaps  John  Law  had  pre 
science  of  the  future. 

"Oh,  sir,  I  had  far  liefer  I  had  never  seen  you," 
cried  Catharine  Knollys,  bending  a  head  from  whose 
eyes  there  dropped  sudden  tears. 

"Ah,  dear  heart,  say  anything  but  that !" 

"'Tis  a  hard  way  a  woman  must  travel  at  best 
in  this  world,"  murmured  the  Lady  Catharine,  with 


84  THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

wisdom  all  unsuited  to  her  youth.  "But  I  can  not 
understand.  I  had  thought  that  the  coming  of  a 
lover  was  a  joyous  thing,  a  time  of  happiness  alone." 

"Ah,  now,  in  the  hour  of  mist  can  you  not  foresee 
the  time  of  sunshine?  All  life  is  before  us,  my 
sweet,  all  life.  There  is  much  for  us  to  do,  there 
are  so  many,  many  days  of  love  and  happiness." 

But  now  the  Lady  Catharine  Knollys  veered  again, 
with  some  sudden  change  of  the  inner  currents  of 
the  feminine  soul. 

"I  have  gone  far  with  you,  Mr.  Law,"  said  she, 
suddenly  disengaging  her  hand.  "Yet  I  did  but  give 
you  insight  of  things  which  any  man  coming  as  you 
have  come  should  have  well  within  his  knowledge. 
Think  not,  sir,  that  I  am  easy  to  be  won.  I  must 
know  you  equally  honest  with  myself.  And  if  you 
come  to  my  regard,  it  must  be  step  by  step  and  stair 
by  stair.  This  is  to  be  remembered." 

"I  shall  remember." 

"Go,  then,  and  leave  me  for  this  time,"  she  be 
sought  him.  But  still  he  could  not  go,  and  still  the 
Lady  Catharine  could  not  bid  him  more  sternly  to 
depart.  Youth — youth,  and  love,  and  fate  were  in 
that  room ;  and  these  would  have  their  way. 

The  beseeching  gaze  of  an  eye  singular  in  its 
power  rested  on  the  girl,  a  gaze  filled  with  all 
the  strange,  half  mandatory  pleading  of  youth  and 


CATHAEINE   KNOLLYS  85 

yearning.  Once  more  there  came  a  shift  in  the  tidal 
currents  of  the  woman's  heart.  The  Lady  Catharine 
slowly  became  conscious  of  a  delicious  helplessness, 
of  a  sinking  and  yielding  which  she  could  not  resist. 
Her  head  lost  power  to  be  erect.  It  slipped  forward 
on  a  shoulder  waiting  as  by  right.  Her  breath 
came  in  soft  measure,  and  unconsciously  a  hand  was 
raised  to  touch  the  cheek  pressed  down  to  hers.  John 
Law  kissed  her  once  upon  the  lips.  Suddenly,  with 
out  plan — in  spite  of  all  plan — the  seal  of  a  strange 
fate  was  set  forever  on  her  life ! 

For  a  long  moment  they  stood  thus,  until  at  length 
she  raised  a  face  pale  and  sharp,  and  pushed  back 
against  his  breast  a  hand  that  trembled. 

"'Tis  wondrous  strange,"  she  whispered. 

"Ask  nothing,"  said  John  Law,  "fear  nothing. 
Only  believe,  as  I  believe." 

Neither  John  Law  nor  the  Lady  Catharine  Knollys 
saw  what  was  passing  just  without  the  room.  They 
did  not  see  the  set  face  which  looked  down  from  the 
stairway.  Through  the  open  door  Mary  Connynge 
could  see  the  young  man  as  he  stepped  out  of  the  door, 
could  see  the  conduct  of  the  girl  now  left  alone  in 
the  drawing-room.  She  saw  the  Lady  Catharine 
sink  down  upon  the  seat,  her  head  drooped  in 
thought,  her  hand  lying  languidly  out  before  her. 
Pale  now  and  distraught,  the  Lady  Catharine  Knol- 


86  THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

lys  wist  little  of  what  went  on  before  her.  She  had 
full  concern  with  the  tumult  which  waged  riot  in 
her  soul. 

Mary  Connynge  turned,  and  started  back  up  the 
stair  unseen.  She  paused,  her  yellow  eyes  gone  nar 
row,  her  little  hand  clutched  tight  upon  the  rail. 


CHAPTER  IX 

IN  SEARCH   OF   THE    QUARREL 

As  Law  turned  away  from  the  door  of  the  Knollys 
mansion,  he  walked  with  head  hent  forward,  not 
looking  upon  the  one  hand  or  the  other.  He  raised 
his  eyes  only  when  a  passing  horseman  had  called 
thrice  to  him. 

"What!"  cried  Sir  Arthur  Pembroke.  "I  little 
looked  to  see  you  here,  Mr.  Law.  I  thought  it  more 
likely  you  were  engaged  in  other  business — " 

"Meaning  by  that—?" 

"What  should  I  mean,  except  that  I  supposed  you 
preparing  for  your  little  affair  with  Wilson?" 

"My  little  affair?" 

"Certainly,  with  Wilson,  as  I  said.  I  saw  our 
friend  Castleton  but  now,  and  he  advised  me  of 
your  promptness.  He  had  searched  for  you  for  days, 
he  being  chosen  by  Wilson  for  his  friend — and  said 
he  had  at  last  found  you  in  your  lodgings.  Egad! 
I  have  mistook  your  kidney  completely.  Never  in 
London  was  a  duel  brought  on  so  swift.  Tight? 
(87) 


88  THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

This  afternoon !'  said  you.  Jove!  but  the  young 
bloods  laughed  when  they  heard  of  it.  'Bloody  Scot 
land'  is  what  they  have  christened  you  at  the  Green 
Lion.  'He  said  to  me/  said  Charlie,  'that  he  was 
slow  to  find  a  quarrel,  but  since  this  quarrel  was 
brought  home  to  him,  'twere  meet  'twere  soon  fin 
ished.  He  thought,  forsooth,  that  four  o'clock  of  the 
afternoon  were  late  enough.'  Gad !  But  you  might 
have  given  Wilson  time  at  least  for  one  more  din 
ner." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  exclaimed  Law,  mystified 
still. 

"Mean !  Why,  I  mean  that  I've  been  scouring  Lon 
don  to  find  you.  My  faith,  man,  but  thou'rt  a  sud 
den  actor !  Where  caught  you  this  unseemly  haste  ?" 

"Sir  Arthur,"  said  the  other,  slowly,  "you  do  me 
too  much  justice.  I  have  made  no  arrangement  to 
meet  Mr.  Wilson,  nor  have  I  any  wish  to  do  so." 

"Pish,  man !  You  must  not  jest  with  me  in  such 
a  case  as  this.  'Tis  no  masquerading.  Let  me  tell 
you,  Wilson  has  a  vicious  sword,  and  a  temper  no 
less  vicious.  You  have  touched  him  on  his  very 
sorest  spot.  He  has  gone  to  meet  you  this  very 
hour.  His  coach  will  be  at  Bloomsbury  Square  thia 
afternoon,  and  there  he  will  await  you.  I  promise 
you  he  is  eager  as  yourself.  'Tis  too  late  now  to 


IN   SEARCH   OF   THE    QUARREL       89 

accommodate  this  matter,  even  had  you  not  sent  back 
so  prompt  and  bold  an  answer." 

"I  have  sent  him  no  answer  at  all!"  cried  Law. 
"I  have  not  seen  Castleton  at  all/* 

"Oh,  come!"  expostulated  Sir  Arthur,  his  face 
showing  a  flush  of  annoyance. 

"Sir  Arthur/'  continued  Law,  as  he  raised  his 
head,  "I  am  of  the  misfortune  to  be  but  young  in 
London,  and  I  am  in  need  of  your  friendship.  I 
find  myself  pressed  for  rapid  transportation.  Pray 
you,  give  me  your  mount,  for  I  must  have  speed.  I 
shall  not  need  the  service  of  your  seconding.  In 
dulge  me  now  by  asking  no  more,  and  wait  until  we 
meet  again.  Give  me  the  horse,  and  quickly." 

"But  you  must  be  seconded !"  cried  the  other. 
"This  is  too  unusual.  Consider !"  Yet  all  the  time 
he  was  giving  a  hand  at  the  stirrup  of  Law,  who 
sprang  up  and  was  off  before  he  had  time  to  formu 
late  his  own  wonder. 

"Who  and  what  is  he?"  muttered  the  young  no 
bleman  to  himself  as  he  gazed  after  the  retreating 
form.  "He  rides  well,  at  least,  as  he  does  every 
thing  else  well.  'Till  I  return/  forsooth,  'till  I 
return!'  Gad!  I  half  wish  you  had  never  come  in 
the  first  place,  my  Bloody  Scotland !" 

As  for  Law,  he  rode  swiftly,  asking  at  times  his 


90  THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

way,  losing  time  here,  gaining  it  again  there,  creat 
ing  much  hatred  among  foot  folk  by  his  tempestu 
ous  speed,  but  giving  little  heed  to  aught  save  his 
own  purpose.  In  time  he  reached  Bradwell  Street 
and  flung  himself  from  his  panting  horse  in  front 
of  the  dingy  door  of  the  lodging  house.  He  rushed 
up  the  stairs  at  speed  and  threw  open  the  door  of 
the  little  room.  It  was  empty. 

There  was  no  word  to  show  what  his  brother  had 
done,  whither  he  had  gone,  when  he  would  return- 
Around  the  lodgings  in  Bradwell  Street  lay  a  great 
and  unknown  London,  with  its  own  secrets,  its  own 
hatreds,  its  own  crimes.  A  strange  feeling  of  on 
coming  ill  seized  upon  the  heart  of  Law,  as  he  stood 
in  the  center  of  tlie  dull  little  room,  now  suddenly 
grown  hateful  to  him.  He  dashed  his  hand  upon  the 
table,  and  stood  so,  scarce  knowing  which  way  to 
turn.  A  foot  sounded  in  the  hallway,  and  he 
went  to  the  door.  The  ancient  landlady  confronted 
him.  "Where  has  my  brother  gone?"  he  demanded, 
fiercely,  as  she  came  into  view  along  the  ill-lighted 
passage-way 

"Gone,  good  sir?"  said  she,  quaveringly.  "Why, 
how  should  I  know  where  he  has  gone?  More  qual 
ity  has  been  here  this  morning  than  ever  I  saw  in 
Bradwell  Street  in  all  my  life.  First  comes  a  coach, 
this  morning,  with  four  horses  as  fine  as  the  king's, 


IN  SEAECH  OF  THE  QUABREL   91 

and  a  man  atop  would  turn  your  blood,  he  was  that 
solemn-like,  sir.  Then  your  brother  was  up  here 
alone,  sir,  and  very  still.  I  will  swear  he  was  never 
out  of  this  room.  Then,  but  an  hour  ago,  here  comes 
another  coach,  as  big  as  the  first,  and  yellower. 
And  out  of  it  steps  another  fine  lord,  and  he  bows 
to  your  brother,  and  in  they  get,  and  off  goes  the 
coach.  But,  God  help  me,  sir !  How  should  I  know 
which  way  they  went,  or  what  should  be  their  errand  ? 
Methinks  it  must  be  some  servant  come  from  the 
royal  palace.  Sir,  be  you  two  of  the  nobility  ?  And 
if  you  be,  why  come  you  here  to  Bradwell  Street? 
Sir,  I  am  but  a  poor  woman.  If  you  be  not  of  the 
nobility,  then  you  must  be  either  coiners  or  smug 
glers.  Sir,  I  am  bethought  that  you  are  dangerous 
guests  in  my  house.  I  am  a  poor  woman,  as  you 
know." 

Law  flung  a  coin  at  her  as  he  sped  through  the 
hall  and  down  the  stair.  "'Twas  to  Bloomsbury 
Square,"  he  said,  as  he  sprang  into  saddle  and  set 
heel  to  the  flank  of  the  good  horse.  "To  Bloomsbury 
Square,  then,  and  fast !" 


CHAPTEE  X 

THE  RUMOR  OF  THE  QUARREL 

Meantime,  at  the  Knollys  mansion,  there  were 
forthcoming  other  parts  of  the  drama  of  the  day. 
The  butler  announced  to  Lady  Catharine,  still  sit 
ting  dreaming  by  the  window,  Sir  Arthur  Pem 
broke,  now  late  arrived  on  foot.  Lady  Catharine 
hesitated.  "Show  the  gentleman  to  this  room,"  she 
said  at  length. 

Pembroke  came  forward  eagerly  as  he  entered. 
"Such  a  day  of  it,  Lady  Kitty!"  he  exclaimed,  im 
pulsively.  "You  will  pardon  me  for  coming  thus, 
when  I  say  I  have  just  been  robbed  of  my  horse. 
'Twas  at  your  very  door,  and  methinks  you  must 
know  the  highwayman.  I  have  come  to  tell  you 
of  the  news." 

"You  don't  mean—" 

"Yes,  but  I  do!  'Twas  no  less  than  Mr.  Law, 
of  Scotland.  He  hath  taken  my  horse  and  gone 
off  like  a  whirlwind,  leaving  me  afoot  and  friend 
less,  save  for  your  good  self.  I  am  begging  a  taste 
(92) 


THE   EUMOR   OF   THE    QTJAKKEL      93 

of  tea  and  a  little  biscuit,  for  I  vow  I  am  half 
famished." 

The  Lady  Catharine  Knollys,  in  sheer  reaction 
from  the  strain,  broke  out  into  a  peal  of  laughter. 

"Sure,  he  has  strange  ways  about  him,  this  same 
Mr.  Law/'  said  she.  "That  young  man  would  have 
come  here  direct,  and  would  have  made  himself 
quite  at  home,  methinks,  had  he  had  but  the  first 
encouragement." 

"Gad!  Lady  Catharine,  but  he  has  a  conceit  of 
himself.  Think  you  of  what  he  has  done  in  his 
short  stay  here  in  town!  First,  as  you  know,  he 
sat  at  cards  with  two  or  three  of  us  the  other 
evening — Charlie  Castleton,  Beau  Wilson,  myself 
and  one  or  two  besides.  And  what  doth  he  do  but 
stake  a  bauble  against  good  gold  that  he  would 
make  sept  et  le  va." 

"And  did  it?" 

"And  did  it.  Yes,  faith,  as  though  he  saw  it 
coming.  Yet  'twas  I  who  cut  and  dealt  the  cards. 
Nor  was  that  the  half  of  it,"  he  went  on.  "He  let 
the  play  run  on  till  'twas  seize  et  le  va,  then  vingt-un 
et  le  va,  then  twenty-five.  And,  strike  me!  Lady 
Catharine,  if  he  sat  not  there  cool  as  my  Lord 
Speaker  in  the  Parliament,  and  saw  the  cards  run  to 
trente  et  le  va,  as  though  'twere  no  more  to  him 
than  the  eating  of  an  orange !" 


94  THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

"And  showed  no  anxiety  at  all?" 

"None,  as  I  tell  you,  and  he  proved  to  us  plain 
that  he  had  not  two-pence  to  his  name,  for  that  he 
had  been  robbed  the  night  before  while  on  his  way  to 
town.  He  staked  a  diamond,  a  stone  of  worth.  I 
must  say,  his  like  was  never  seen  at  cards." 

"He  hath  strange  quality." 

"That  you  may  say.  Now  read  me  some  farther 
riddles  of  this  same  young  man.  He  managed  to 
win  from  me  a  little  shoe  of  an  American  savage, 
which  I  had  bought  at  a  good  price  but  the  day  be 
fore.  It  came  to  idle  talk  of  ladies'  shoes,  and 
wagers — well,  no  matter;  and  so  Mr.  Law  brought 
on  a  sudden  quarrel  with  Beau  Wilson.  Then, 
though  he  seemed  not  wanting  courage,  he  half  de 
clined  to  face  Wilson  on  the  field.  Sudden  to 
change  as  ever,  this  very  morning  he  sent  word  to 
Wilson  by  Mr.  Castleton  that  he  was  ready  to  meet 
him  at  four  this  afternoon.  God  save  us!  what  a 
haste  was  there!  And  now,  to  cap  it  all,  he  hath 
taken  my  horse  from  me  and  ridden  off  to  keep 
an  appointment  which  he  says  he  never  made! 
Gad!  These  be  odd  ways  enough,  and  almost  too 
keen  for  me  to  credit.  Why,  'twould  not  surprise  me 
to  hear  that  he  had  been  here  to  make  love  to  the 
Lady  Catharine  Knollys,  and  to  offer  her  the  pro 
ceeds  of  his  luck  at  faro.  And,  strike  me !  if  that 


same  luck  holds,  he'll  have  all  the  money  in  London 
in  another  fortnight!  I  wish  him  joy  of  Wilson." 

"He  may  be  hurt  I"  exclaimed  the  Lady  Catharine, 
starting  up. 

"Who?  Beau  Wilson?"  exclaimed  Sir  Arthur. 
"Take  no  fear.  He  carries  a  good  blade." 

"Sir  Arthur,"  said  the  girl,  "is  there  no  way  to 
stop  this  foolish  matter?  Is  there  not  yet  time?" 

"Why,  as  to  that,"  said  Sir  Arthur,  "it  all  de 
pends  upon  the  speed  of  my  own  horse.  I  should 
think  myself  e'en  let  off  cheaply  if  he  took  the  horse 
and  rode  on  out  of  London,  and  never  turned  up 
again.  Yet,  I  bethink  me,  he  has  a  way  of  turning 
up.  If  so,  then  we  are  too  late.  Let  him  go.  For 
me,  I'd  liefer  sit  me  here  with  Lady  Catharine,  who,  I 
perceive,  is  about  now  to  save  my  death  of  hunger, 
since  now  I  see  the  tea  tray  coming.  Thank  thee 
prettily." 

Lady  Catharine  poured  for  him  with  a  hand  none 
too  steady.  "Sir  Arthur,"  said  she,  "you  know  why 
I  have  this  concern  over  such  a  quarrel.  You  know 
well  enough  what  the  duello  has  cost  the  house  of 
Knollys.  Of  my  uncles,  four  were  killed  upon  this 
so-called  field  of  honor.  My  grandfather  met  his 
death  in  that  same  way.  Another  relative,  before 
my  time,  is  reputed  to  have  slain  a  friend  in  this 
same  manner.  As  you  know,  but  three  years  ago, 


96  THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

my  brother,  the  living  representative  of  our  family, 
had  the  misfortune  to  slay  his  kinsman  in  a  duel 
which  sprang  out  of  some  little  jest.  I  say  to  you, 
Sir  Arthur,  that  this  quarrel  must  he  stopped,  and  we 
must  do  thus  much  for  our  friends  forthwith.  It 
must  not  go  on." 

"For  our  friends!  Our  friends!"  cried  Sir  Ar 
thur.  "Ah,  ha!  so  you  mean  that  the  old  beau 
hath  hit  thee,  too,  with  his  ardent  eye.  Or — hang ! 
What — you  mean  not  that  this  stranger,  this  Scotch 
man,  is  a  friend  of  yours  ?" 

"I  speak  but  confusedly,"  said  the  Lady  Catharine. 
"'Tis  my  prejudice  against  such  fighting,  as  you 
know.  Can  we  not  make  haste,  and  so  prevent  this, 
meeting?" 

"Oh,  I  doubt  if  there  be  much  need  of  haste," 
said  Sir  Arthur,  balancing  his  cup  in  his  hand 
judicially.  "This  matter  will  fall  through  at  most 
for  the  day.  They  assuredly  can  not  meet  until 
to-morrow.  This  will  be  the  talk  of  London,  if  it 
goes  on  in  this  pell-mell,  hurly-burly  fashion.  As 
to  the  stopping  of  it — well  now,  the  law  under 
William  and  Mary  saith  that  one  who  slays  another 
in  a  duel  of  premeditation  is  nothing  but  a  mur 
derer,  and  may  be  hanged  like  any  felon;  hanged 
by  the  neck,  till  he  be  dead.  Alas,  what  a  fate  for 
this  pretty  Scotchman !" 


THE  KUMOK  OF  THE  QUARREL   97 

Sir  Arthur  paused.  A  look  of  wonder  swept 
across  his  face.  "Open  the  window,  Annie!"  he 
cried  suddenly  to  the  servant.  "Your  mistress  is 
ill." 


CHAPTER  XI 

AS   CHANCE  DECREED 

Mischance  delayed  the  carriage  of  Beau  Wilson 
in  its  journeying  to  Bloomsbury  Square.  It  had 
not  appeared  at  that  moment,  far  toward  evening, 
when  John  Law,  riding  a  trembling  and  dripping 
steed,  came  upon  one  side  of  this  little  open  common 
and  gazed  anxiously  across  the  space.  He  saw  stand 
ing  across  from  him  a  carriage,  toward  which  he 
dashed.  He  flung  open  the  carriage  door,  crying 
out,  even  before  he  saw  the  face  within. 

"Will!  Will  Law,  I  say,  come  out!"  called  he. 
"What  mad  trick  is  this?  What—" 

He  saw  indeed  the  face  of  Will  Law  inside  the 
carriage,  a  face  pale,  melancholy,  and  yet  firm. 

"Get  you  back  into  the  city!"  cried  Will  Law. 
"This  is  no  place  for  you,  Jack." 

"Boy!  Are  you  mad,  entirely  mad?"  cried  Law, 
pushing  his  way  directly  into  the  carriage  and  reach 
ing  out  with  an  arm  of  authority  for  the  sword 
which  he  saw  resting  beside  his  brother  against  the 
(98) 


AS    CHANCE   DECREED  99 

seat.  "No  place  for  me!  'Tis  no  place  for  you, 
for  either  of  us.  Turn  back.  This  foolishness  must 
go  no  further !" 

"It  must  go  on  now  to  the  end/'  said  Will  Law, 
wearily.  "Mr.  Wilson's  carriage  is  long  past  due." 

"But  you — what  do  you  mean?  You've  had  no 
hand  in  this.  Even  had  you — why,  boy,  you  would 
be  spitted  in  an  instant  by  this  fellow." 

"And  would  not  that  teach  you  to  cease  your 
mad  pranks,  and  use  to  better  purpose  the  talents 
God  hath  given  you?  Yours  is  the  better  chance, 
Jack." 

"Peace!"  cried  John  Law,  tears  starting  to  his 
eyes.  "I'll  not  argue  that.  Driver,  turn  back  for 
home !" 

The  coachman  at  the  box  touched  his  hat  with 
a  puzzled  air.  "I  beg  pardon,  sir,"  said  he,  "but 
I  was  under  orders  of  the  gentleman  inside." 

"You  were  sent  for  Mr.  John  Law." 

"For  Mr.  Law—" 

"But  I  am  John  Law,  sirrah !" 

"You  are  both  Mr.  Law?  Well,  sir,  I  scarce 
know  which  of  you  is  the  proper  Mr.  Law.  But  I 
must  say  that  here  comes  a  coach  drove  fast  enough, 
and  perhaps  this  is  the  gentleman  I  was  to  wait  for, 
according  to  the  first  Mr.  Law,  sir." 

"He  is  coming,  then,"  cried  John  Law,  angrily. 


100          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

"I'll  see  into  this  pretty  meeting.  If  this  devil's 
own  fool  is  to  have  a  crossing  of  steel,  I'll  fair 
accommodate  him,  and  we'll  look  into  the  reasons 
for  it  later.  Sit  ye  down!  Be  quiet,  Will,  boy,  I 
sayl" 

Law  was  a  powerful  man,  over  six  feet  in 
height.  The  sports  of  the  Highlands,  combined 
with  much  fencing  and  continuous  play  in  the  ten 
nis  court,  indeed  his  ardent  love  for  every  hardy 
exercise,  had  given  his  form  alike  solid  strength 
and  great  activity.  "Jessamy  Law,"  they  called  him 
at  home,  in  compliment  of  his  slender  though  full 
and  manly  form.  Cool  and  skilful  in  all  the  games 
of  his  youth,  as  John  Law  himself  had  often  calmly 
stated,  in  fence  he  had  a  knowledge  amounting  to 
science,  a  knowledge  based  upon  the  study  of  first 
principles.  The  intricacies  of  the  Italian  school 
were  to  him  an  old  story.  With  the  single  blade 
he  had  never  yet  met  his  master.  Indeed,  the 
thought  of  successful  opposition  seemed  never  to 
occur  to  him  at  all.  Certainly  at  this  moment,  an 
gered  at  the  impatient  insolence  of  his  adversary, 
the  thought  of  danger  was  farthest  from  his  mind. 
Stronger  than  his  brother,  he  pushed  the  latter  back 
with  one  hand,  grasping  as  he  did  so  the  small-sword 
with  which  the  latter  was  provided.  With  one  leap 


AS    CHANCE   DECREED  101 

he  sprang  from  the  carriage,  leaving  Will  half  dazed 
and  limp  within. 

Even  as  he  left  the  carriage  step,  he  found  him 
self  confronted  with  an  adversary  eager  as  himself; 
for  at  that  instant  Beau  Wilson  was  hastening  from 
his  coach.  Vain,  weak  and  pompous  in  a  way,  yet 
lacking  not  in  a  certain  personal  valor,  Beau  Wil 
son  stopped  not  for  his  seconds,  tarried  not  to  catch 
the  other's  speech,  but  himself  strode  madly  onward, 
his  point  raised  slightly,  as  though  he  had  lost  all 
care  and  dignity  and  desired  nothing  so  much  as 
to  stab  his  enemy  as  swiftly  as  might  be. 

It  would  have  mattered  nothing  now  to  this  High 
lander,  this  fighting  Argyll,  what  had  been  the  rea 
son  animating  his  opponent.  It  was  enough  that 
he  saw  a  weapon  bared.  Too  late,  then,  to  reason 
with  John  Law,  "Beau"  Law  of  Edinboro',  "Jes- 
samy"  Law,  the  best  blade  and  the  coolest  head  in 
all  the  schools  of  arms  that  taught  him  fence. 

For  a  moment  Law  paused  and  raised  his  point, 
whether  in  query  or  in  salute  the  onlookers  scarce 
could  tell.  Sure  it  was  that  Wilson  was  the  first 
to  fall  into  the  assault.  Scarce  pausing  in  his  stride, 
he  came  on  blindly,  and,  raising  his  own  point,  lunged 
straight  for  his  opponent's  breast.  Sad  enough  was 
the  fate  which  impelled  him  to  do  this  thing. 


102          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

It  was  over  in  an  instant.  It  could  not  be  said 
that  there  was  an  actual  encounter.  The  side  step 
of  the  young  Highlander  was  soft  as  that  of  a  pan 
ther,  as  quick,  and  yet  as  full  of  savagery.  The 
whipping  over  of  his  wrist,  the  gliding,  twining, 
clinging  of  his  blade  against  that  of  his  enemy  was 
so  swift  that  eye  could  scarce  have  followed  it. 
The  eye  of  Beau  Wilson  was  too  slow  to  catch  it  or 
to  guard.  He  never  stopped  the  riposte,  and  in 
deed  was  too  late  to  attempt  any  guard.  Pierced 
through  the  body,  Wilson  staggered  back,  clapping 
his  hands  against  his  chest.  Over  his  face  there 
swept  a  swift  series  of  changes.  Anger  faded  to 
chagrin,  that  to  surprise,  surprise  to  fright,  and  that 
to  gentleness. 

"Sir,"  said  h.e,  "you've  hit  me  fair,  and  very 
hard.  I  pray  you,  some  friend,  give  me  an  arm." 

And  so  they  led  him  to  his  carriage,  and  took  him 
home  a  corpse.  Once  more  the  code  of  the  time 
had  found  its  victim. 

Law  turned  away  from  the  coach  of  his  smitten 
opponent,  turned  away  with  a  face  stern  and  full 
of  trouble.  Many  things  revolved  themselves  in  his 
mind  as  he  stepped  slowly  towards  the  carriage,  in 
which  his  brother  still  sat  wringing  his  hands  in 
an  agony  of  perturbation. 

"Jack,   Jack!"   cried   Will   Law,   "Oh,   heavens! 


AS   CHANCE   DECREED  103 

You  have  killed  him!  You  have  killed  a  man! 
What  shall  we  do  ?" 

Law  raised  his  head  and  looked  his  brother  in 
the  face,  but  seemed  scarce  to  hear  him.  Half  me 
chanically  he  was  fumbling  in  the  side  pocket  of 
his  coat.  He  drew  forth  from  it  now  a  peculiar 
object,  at  which  he  gazed  intently  and  half  in  curi 
osity.  It  was  the  little  beaded  shoe  of  the  Indian 
woman,  the  very  object  over  which  Ihis  ill-fated 
quarrel  had  arisen,  and  which  now  seemed  so  curi 
ously  to  intermingle  itself  with  his  affairs. 

"'Twas  a  slight  shield  enough,"  he  said  slowly 
to  himself,  "yet  it  served.  But  for  this  little  piece 
of  hide,  methinks  there  might  be  two  of  us  going 
home  to-day  to  take  somewhat  of  rest." 


FOR  FELONY 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  day  following  the 
encounter  in  Bloomsbury  Square,  a  little  group  of 
excited  loiterers  filled  the  entrance  and  passage  way 
at  59  Bradwell  Street,  the  former  lodgings  of  the 
two  young  gentlemen  from  Scotland.  The  motley 
assemblage  seemed  for  the  most  part  to  make  merry 
at  the  expense  of  a  certain  messenger  boy,  who  bore 
a  long  wicker  box,  which  presently  he  shifted  from 
his  shoulder  to  a  more  convenient  resting  place  on 
the  curb. 

"Do  'ee  but  look  at  un,"  said  one  ancient  dame. 
"He !  he !  Hath  a  parcel  of  fine  clothes  for  the  tall 
gentleman  was  up  in  third  floor !  He !  he !  Clothes 
for  Mr.  Law,  indeed  !" 

"Fine  clothes,  eh?"  cried  another,  a  portly  dame 
of  certain  years.  "Much  fine  clothes  he'll  need 
where  he'm  gone." 

"Yes,  indeed,  that  he  will  na.  Bad  luck  'twas 
to  Mary  Cullen  as  took  un  into  her  house.  Now 
(104) 


FOR   FELONY,  105 

she's  no  lodging  money  for  her  rooms,  and  her 
lodgers  be  both  in  Newgate;  least  ways,  one  of  un." 

"Ah  now,  'tis  a  pity  for  Mary  Cullen,  she  do  need 
the  money  so  much — " 

"Shut  ye  all  your  mouths,  the  lot  o*  you,"  cried 
Mary  Cullen  herself,  appearing  at  the  door.  "'Tis 
not  she  is  needing  the  little  money,  for  she  has  it 
right  here  in  the  corner  of  her  apron.  Every  stiver 
Mary  Cullen's  young  men  said  they'd  pay  they  paid, 
like  the  gentlemen  they  were.  I'll  warrant  the  rag- 
gle  of  ye  would  do  well  to  make  out  fine  as  Mary 
Cullen  hath." 

"Oh  now,  is  that  true,  Mary  Cullen?"  said  a 
voice.  "'Twas  said  that  these  two  were  noble  folk 
come  here  for  the  sport  of  it." 

"What  else  but  true?  Do  you  never  know  the 
look  of  gentry?  My  fakes,  I'll  warrant  the  young 
gentleman  is  back  within  a  fortnight.  His  brother, 
the  younger  one,  said  to  me  hisself  but  this  very 
morn,  his  brother  was  hinnocent  as  a  child ;  that  he 
was  obliged  to  strike  the  other  man  for  fear  of  his 
own  life.  Now,  what  can  judge  do  but  turn  un  loose  ? 
Four  sovereigns  he  gave  me  this  very  morn.  What 
else  can  judge  do  but  turn'  un  free?  Tell  me  that, 
now!" 

"Let's  see  the  fine  clothes/'  said  the  first  old  lady 
to  the  apprentice  boy,  reaching  out  a  hand  and  pull- 


106          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

ing  at  the  corner  of  the  box-lid.  The  youth  was  noth 
ing  loath  to  show,  with  professional  pride,  the  quality 
of  his  burden,  and  so  raised  the  lid. 

"Land  save  us!  'Tis  gentry  sure  enough  they 
are,"  cried  the  inquisitive  one.  "Do-a  look  in  there ! 
Such  clothes  and  laces,  such  a  brand  new  wig,  such 
silken  hose !  Law  o'  land !  Must  have  cost  all  of 
forty  crowns.  Mary  Cullen,  right  ye  are ;  'twas 
quality  ye  had  with  ye,  even  if  'twas  but  for  little 
while." 

"And  them  gone  to  prison,  him  on  trial  for  his 
life !  I  saw  un  ride  out  this  very  yesterday,  fast  as 
though  the  devil  was  behind  un,  and  a  finer  body  of 
a  man  never  did  I  look  at  in  my  life.  What  pity 
'tis,  what  pity  'tis !" 

"Well,"  said  the  apprentice,  with  a  certain  superi 
ority  in  his  air.  "I  dare  wait  no  longer.  My  master 
said  the  gentleman  was  to  have  the  clothes  this  very 
afternoon.  So  if  to  prison  he  be  gone,  to  prison 
must  I  go  too."  Upon  which  he  set  off  doggedly, 
and  so  removed  one  of  the  main  causes  for  the 
assemblage  at  the  curb. 

The  apprentice  was  hungry  and  weary  enough  be 
fore  he  reached  the  somber  portals,  yet  his  insistence 
won  past  gate-keeper  and  turnkey,  one  after  another, 
till  at  length  he  reached  the  jailer  who  adjudged 
himself  fit  to  pass  upon  the  stolid  demand  that  the 


FOR   FELONY  107 

messenger  be  admitted  with  the  parcel  for  John 
Law,  Esquire,  late  of  Bradwell  Street,  marked 
urgent,  and  collect  fifty  sovereigns.  The  humor  of 
all  this  appealed  to  the  jailer  mightily. 

"Send  him  along,"  he  said.  And  the  hoy  came  in, 
much  dismayed  but  still  faithful  to  his  trust. 

"Please,  sir,"  said  the  youth,  "I  would  know  if  ye 
have  John  Law,  Esquire,  in  this  place;  and  if  so, 
I  would  see  him.  Master  said  I  was  not  to  bring 
back  this  parcel  till  that  I  had  seen  John  Law, 
Esquire,  and  got  from  him  fifty  sovereigns.  'Tis 
for  his  wedding,  sir,  and  the  clothes  are  of  the  finest/* 

The  jailer  smiled  grimly.  "Mr.  Law  gets  pres 
ents  passing  soon,"  said  he.  "Set  down  your  box. 
It  might  be  weapons  or  the  like." 

"Some  clothes,"  said  the  apprentice.  "Some  very 
fine  clothes.  They  are  of  our  best." 

"Ha !  ha !"  roared  the  jailer.  "Here  indeed  be  a 
pretty  jest.  Much  need  he'll  have  of  fine  clothes 
here.  He'll  soon  take  his  coat  off  the  rack  like  the 
rest,  and  happen  it  fits  him,  very  well.  Take  back 
your  box,  boy — or  stay,  let's  have  a  look  in't." 

The  jailer  was  a  man  not  devoid  of  wisdom. 
Fine  clothes  sometimes  went  with  a  long  purse,  and 
a  long  purse  might  do  wonders  to  help  the  comfort 
of  any  prisoner  in  London,  as  well  as  the  comfort 
of  his  keeper.  Truly  his  eyes  opened  wide  as  he 


108          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

saw  the  contents  of  the  box.  He  felt  the  lapel  of 
the  coat,  passing  it  approvingly  between  his  thumb 
and  finger.  "Well,  e'en  set  ye  down  the  box,  lad," 
said  he,  "and  wait  till  I  see  where  Mr.  Law  has 
gone.  Hum,  hum !  What  saith  the  record  ?  Charged 
that  said  prisoner  did  kill — hum,  hum!  Taken  of 
said  John  Law  six  sovereigns,  three  shillings  and 
sixpence.  Item,  one  snuff-box,  gilt.  Hour  of  ad 
mission,  five  o'clock  of  the  afternoon.  We  shall 
see,  we  shall  see." 

"Sir,"  said  the  jailer,  approaching  the  prisoner 
and  his  brother,  who  both  remained  in  the  deten 
tion  room,  "a  lad  hath  arrived  bearing  a  parcel 
for  John  Law,  Esquire.  'Tis  not  within  possibility 
that  you  have  these  goods,  but  we  would  know  what 
disposition  we  shall  make  of  them." 

"By  my  faith !"  cried  Law,  "I  had  entirely  forgot 
my  haberdasher." 

The  jailer  stood  on  one  foot  and  gave  a  cough, 
unnecessarily  loud  but  sufficiently  significant.  It 
was  enough  for  the  quick  wit  of  Law. 

"There  was  fifty  sovereigns  on  the  charge  list," 
said  the  jailer. 

"Sixty  sovereigns,  I  heard  you  say  distinctly,"  re 
plied  Law.  "Will,  give  me  thy  purse,  man !" 

Will  Law  obeyed  automatically. 

"There,"  said  John  Law  to  the  jailer.    "I  am 


FOE   FELONY  109 

sure  the  garments  will  be  very  proper.  Is  it  not 
all  very  proper  ?" 

The  turnkey  looked  calmly  into  the  face  of  his 
prisoner  and  as  calmly  replied:  "It  is,  sir,  as  you 
say,  very  proper." 

"It  would  be  much  relief,"  said  John  Law,  as  the 
turnkey  again  appeared,  bearing  the  box  in  his  own 
hands,  "if  I  might  don  my  new  garments.  I  would 
liefer  make  a  good  showing  for  thy  house,  friend, 
and  can  not,  in  this  garb." 

"Sirrah,"  said  the  jailer,  "there  be  rules  of  this 
place,  as  you  very  well  know.  Your  little  chamber 
was  to  have  been  in  corridor  number  four,  number 
twelve  of  the  left  aisle.  But,  sir,  as  perhaps  you 
know,  there  be  rules  which  are  rules,  and  rules 
which  are  not  so  much — that  is  to  say — rules,  as 
you  might  put  it,  sir.  The  main  thing  is  that  I 
produce  your  body  on  the  day  of  the  hearing,  which 
cometh  soon.  Meantime,  since  you  seem  a  gentle 
man,  and  are  in  for  no  common  felony,  but  charged, 
as  I  might  say,  with  a  light  offense,  why,  sir,  in 
such  a  case,  I  might  say  that  a  gentleman  like  your 
self,  if  he  cared  to  wear  a  bit  of  good  clothes  and 
wear  it  here  in  the  parlor  like,  why,  sir,  I  can  see  no 
harm  in  it.  And  that's  competent  to  prove,  as  the 
judge  says." 

"Very  well,  then,"  said  Law.     "I'll  e'en  deck  out 


110          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

with  the  gear  I  should  have  had  to-night  had  I  been 
free;  though  I  fear  my  employment  this  evening 
will  scarce  be  pleasing  as  that  which  I  had  planned. 
Will,  had  I  had  but  one  more  night  at  the  Green 
Lion,  we'd  e'en  have  needed  a  special  chair  to  carry 
home  my  winnings  of  their  English  gold." 

Enter  then,  a  few  moments  later,  "Beau"  Law, 
"Jessamy"  Law,  late  of  Edinboro',  gentleman,  and 
a  right  gallant  figure  of  a  man.  Tall  he  was  in 
deed,  and,  so  clad,  making  a  picture  of  superb  man 
hood.  Ease  and  grace  he  showed  in  every  movement. 
His  long  fingers  closed  lightly  at  top  of  a  lacquered 
cane  which  he  had  found  within  the  box.  Deep 
ruffles  of  white  hung  down  from  his  wrists,  and  a 
fall  of  wide  lace  drooped  from  the  bosom  of  his 
ruffled  shirt.  His  wig,  deep  curled  and  well  whit 
ened,  gave  a  certain  austerity  to  his  mien.  At  his 
instep  sparkled  new  buckles  of  brilliants,  rising 
above  which  sprang  a  graceful  ankle,  a  straight  and 
well-rounded  leg.  The  long  lapels  of  his  rich  coat 
hung  deep,  and  the  rich  waistcoat  of  plum-colored 
satin  added  slimness  to  a  torso  not  too  bulky  in 
itself.  Neat,  dainty,  fastidious,  "Jessamy"  Law, 
late  of  Edinboro',  for  some  weeks  of  London,  and  now 
of  a  London  prison,  scarce  seemed  a  man  about  to 
be  put  on  trial  for  his  life. 


FOE   FELONY  111 

He  advanced  from  the  door  of  the  side  room 
with  ease  and  dignity.  Eeaching  out  a  snuff-box 
which  he  had  found  in  the  silken  pocket  of  his  new 
garment,  he  extended  it  to  the  turnkey  with  an  in 
different  gesture. 

"Kindly  have  it  filled  with  maccaboy,"  he  said. 
"See,  'tis  quite  empty,  and  as  such,  'tis  useless." 

"Certainly,  Captain  Law,"  said  the  turnkey.  "I 
am  a  man  as  knows  what  a  gentleman  likes,  and  many 
a  one  I've  had  here  in  my  day,  sir.  As  it  chances, 
I've  a  bit  of  the  best  in  my  own  quarters,  and  I'll 
see  that  you  have  what  you  like." 

"Will,"  said  Law  to  his  brother,  who  had  scarce 
moved  during  all  this,  "come,  cheer  up !  One 
would  think  'twas  thyself  was  to  be  inmate  here, 
and  not  another." 

Will  Law  burst  into  tears. 

"God  knows,  'twere  better  myself,  and  not  thee, 
Jack,"  he  said. 

"Pish!  boy,  no  more  of  that!  'Twas  as  chance 
would  have  it.  I'm  never  meant  for  staying  here. 
Come,  take  this  letter,  as  I  said,  and  make  haste  to 
carry  it.  'Twill  serve  nothing  to  have  you  moping 
here.  Fare  you  well,  and  see  that  you  sleep  sound." 

Will  Law  turned,  obedient  as  ever  to  the  com 
mands  of  the  superior  mind.  He  passed  out  through 


112          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

the  heavily-guarded  door  as  the  turnkey  swung  it 
for  him;  passed  out,  turned  and  looked  back.  He 
saw  his  brother  standing  there,  easy,  calm,  indiffer 
ent,  a  splendid  figure  of  a  man. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  MESSAGE 

To  Will  Law,  as  he  turned  away  from  the  prison 
gate  upon  the  errand  assigned  to  him,  the  vast  and 
shapeless  shadows  of  the  night-covered  city  took  the 
form  of  appalling  monsters,  relentless,  remorseless,' 
savage  of  purpose.  He  passed,  as  one  in  some  hide 
ous  dream,  along  streets  that  wound  and  wound 
until  his  brain  lost  distance  and  direction.  It  might 
have  been  an  hour,  two  hours,  and  the  clock  might 
have  registered  after  midnight,  when  at  last  he  dis 
covered  himself  in  front  of  the  dark  gray  mass  of 
stone  which  the  chairmen  assured  him  was  his  des 
tination.  It  was  with  trepidation  that  he  stepped 
to  the  half -lighted  door  and  fumbled  for  the  knocker. 
The  door  slowly  swung  open,  and  he  was  confronted 
by  the  portly  presence  of  a  lackey  who  stood  in 
silence  waiting  for  his  word. 

"A  message  for  Lady  Catharine  Knollys,"  said 
Will,  with  what  courage  he  could  summon.     "  'Tis  of 
importance,  I  make  no  doubt."     For  it  was  to  the 
(113) 


114          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

Lady  Catharine  that  John  Law  had  first  turned. 
His  heart  craved  one  more  sight  of  the  face  so  he- 
loved,  one  more  word  from  the  voice  which  so  late  had 
thrilled  his  soul.  Away  from  these — ah!  that  was 
the  prison  for  him,  these  were  the  bars  which  to 
him  seemed  imperatively  needful  to  be  broken.  Aid 
he  did  not  think  of  asking.  Only,  across  London, 
in  the  night,  he  had  sent  the  cry  of  his  heart :  "Come 
to  me !" 

"The  Lady  Catharine  is  not  in  at  this  hour," 
said  the  butler,  with  some  asperity,  closing  the 
door  again  in  part. 

"But  'tis  important.  I  doubt  if  'twill  bear  the 
delay  of  a  night."  Indeed,  Will  Law  had  hitherto 
hardly  paused  to  reflect  how  unusual  was  this  mes 
sage,  from  such  a  person,  to  such  address,  and  at 
such  an  hour. 

The  butler  hesitated,  and  so  did  the  unbidden 
guest  at  the  door.  Neither  heard  at  first  the  light 
rustle  of  garments  at  the  head  of  the  stair,  nor 
saw  the  face  bent  over  the  balustrade  in  the  shadows 
of  the  hall. 

"What  is  it,  James  ?"  asked  a  voice  from  above. 

"A  message  for  the  Lady  Catharine,"  replied  the 
servant.  "Said  to  be  important.  What  should  I 
do?" 

"Lady  Catharine  Knollys  is  away,"  said  the  soft 


THE   MESSAGE  115 

voice  of  Mary  Connynge,  speaking  from  the  stair. 
Her  voice  came  nearer  as  she  now  descended  and  ap 
peared  at  the  first  landing. 

"We  may  crave  your  pardon,  sir/'  said  she,  "that 
we  receive  you  so  ill,  but  the  hour  is  very  late. 
Lady  Catharine  is  away,  and  Sir  Charles  is  forth 
also,  as  usual,  at  this  time.  I  am  left  proxy  for  my 
entertainers,  and  perhaps  I  may  serve  you  in  this 
case.  Therefore  pray  step  within." 

Reluctantly  the  butler  swung  open  the  door  and 
admitted  the  visitor.  Will  Law  stood  face  to  face 
with  Mary  Connynge,  just  from  her  boudoir,  and 
with  time  for  but  half  care  as  to  the  details  of  her 
toilet;  yet  none  the  less  Mary  Connynge,  Eve-like, 
bewitching,  endowed  with  all  the  ancient  wiles  of 
womankind.  Will  Law  gazed,  since  this  was  his 
fate.  Unconsciously  the  sorcery  of  the  sight  en 
folded  the  youth  as  he  stood  there  uncertainly.  He 
saw  the  round  throat,  the  heavy  masses  of  the  dark 
hair,  the  full  round  form.  He  noted,  though  he 
could  not  define;  felt,  though  he  could  not  classify. 
He  was  young.  Utterly  helpless  might  have  been 
even  an  older  man  in  the  hands  of  Mary  Connynge 
at  a  time  like  this,  Mary  Connynge  deliberately 
seeking  to  ensnare. 

"Pardon  this  robe,  but  half  concealing,"  said  her 
drooping  eye  and  her  half  uplifted  hands  which 


116          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

caught  the  defining  folds  yet  closer  to  her  hosom. 
"'Tis  in  your  chivalry  I  trust.  I  would  not  so 
with  others."  This  to  the  beholder  meant  that  he 
was  the  one  man  on  earth  to  whom  so  much  could 
he  conceded. 

Therefore,  following  to  his  own  undoing,  as  though 
led  by  some  actual  command,  while  but  bidden  gen 
tly  by  the  softest  voice  in  all  the  kingdom,  the  young 
man  entered  the  great  drawing-room  and  waited 
as  the  butler  lessened  the  shadows  by  the  aid  of 
candles.  He  saw  the  smallest  foot  in  London  just 
peep  in  and  out,  suddenly  withdrawn  as  Mary  Con- 
nynge  sat  her  down. 

She  held  the  message  now  in  her  hand.  In  her 
soul  sat  burning  impatience,  in  her  heart  contempt 
for  the  callow  youth  before  her.  Yet  to  that  youth 
her  attitude  seemed  to  speak  naught  but  deference 
for  himself  and  doubt  for  this  unusual  situation. 

"Sir,  I  am  in  some  hesitation,"  said  Mary  Con- 
nynge.  "There  is  indeed  none  in  the  house  except 
the  servants.  You  say  your  message  is  of  import 
ance — " 

"It  has  indeed  importance,"  responded  Will.  "It 
comes  from  my  brother." 

"Your  brother,  Mr.  Law?" 

"From  my  brother,  John  Law.  He  is  in  trouble. 
I  make  no  doubt  the  message  will  set  all  plain." 


THE    MESSAGE  117 

"'Tis  most  grievous  that  Lady  Catharine  returns 
not  till  to-morrow." 

Marry  Connynge  shifted  herself  upon  her  seat, 
caught  once  more  with  swift  modesty  at  the  robe 
which  fell  from  her  throat.  She  raised  her  eyes 
and  turned  them  full  upon  the  visitor.  Never  had 
the  spell  of  curve  and  color,  never  had  the  language 
of  sex  addressed  this  youth  as  it  did  now.  Intoxi 
cating  enough  was  this  vague,  mysterious  speech 
even  at  this  inappropriate  time.  The  girl  knew  that 
the  mesh  had  fallen  well.  She  but  caught  again  at 
her  robe,  and  cast  down  again  her  eyes,  and  voiced 
again  her  assumed  anxiety.  "I  scarce  know  what  to 
do,"  she  murmured. 

"My  brother  did  not  explain — "  said  Will. 

"In  that  case,"  said  Mary  Connynge,  her  voice 
cool,  though  her  soul  was  hot  with  impatience,  "it 
might  perhaps  be  well  if  I  took  the  liberty  of  read 
ing  the  message  in  Lady  Catharine's  absence.  You 
say  your  brother  is  in  trouble  ?" 

"Of  the  worst.  Madam,  to  make  plain  with  you, 
he  is  in  prison,  charged  with  the  crime  of  murder." 

Mary  Connynge  sank  back  into  her  chair.  The 
blood  fled  from  her  cheek.  Her  hands  caught  each 
other  in  a  genuine  gesture  of  distress. 

"In  prison!  John  Law!  Oh  heaven!  tell  me 
how?"  Her  voice  was  trembling  now. 


118          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

"My  brother  slew  Mr.  Wilson  in  a  duel  not  of 
his  own  seeking.  It  happened  yesterday,  and  so 
swift  I  scarce  can  tell  you.  He  took  up  a  quarrel 
which  I  had  fixed  to  settle  with  Mr.  Wilson  myself. 
We  all  met  at  Bloomsbury  Square,  my  brother  com 
ing  in  great  haste.  Of  a  sudden,  after  his  fashion, 
he  became  enraged.  He  sprang  from  the  carriage 
and  met  Mr.  Wilson.  And  so — they  passed  a  time 
or  so,  and  'twas  done.  Mr.  Wilson  died  a  few  mo 
ments  later.  My  brother  was  taken  and  lodged  in 
jail.  There  is  said  to  be  bitter  feeling  at  the  court 
over  this  custom  of  dueling,  and  it  has  long  been 
thought  that  an  example  would  be  made." 

"And  this  letter  without  doubt  bears  upon  all 
this?  Perhaps  it  might  be  well  if  I  made  both  of 
us  owners  of  its  contents." 

"Assuredly,  I  should  say,"  replied  Will,  too  dis 
tracted  to  take  full  heed. 

The  girl  tore  open  the  inclosure.  She  saw  but 
three  words,  written  boldly,  firmly,  addressed  to  no 
one,  and  signed  by  no  one. 

"Come  to  me!"  Thus  spoke  the  message.  This 
was  the  summons  that  had  crossed  black  London 
town  that  night. 

Mary  Connynge  rose  quickly  to  her  feet,  forget 
ting  for  the  time  the  man  who  stood  before  her. 
The  instant  demanded  all  the  resources  of  her  soul. 


THE   MESSAGE  119 

She  fought  to  remain  mistress  of  herself.  A  mo 
ment,  and  she  passed  Will  Law  with  swift  foot,  and 
gained  again  the  stairway  in  the  hall,  the  letter 
still  fast  within  her  hand.  Will  Law  had  not  time  to 
ask  its  contents. 

"There  is  need  of  haste,"  said  she.  "James,  have 
up  the  calash  at  once.  Mr.  Law,  I  crave  your  ex 
cuse  for  a  time.  In  a  moment  I  shall  be  ready  to 
go  with  you." 

In  two  minutes  she  was  sobbing  alone,  her  face 
down  upon  the  bed.  In  five,  she  was  at  the  door, 
dressed,  cloaked,  smiling  sweetly  and  ready  for  the 
journey.  And  thus  it  was  that,  of  two  women  who 
loved  John  Law,  that  one  fared  on  to  see  him  for 
whom  he  had  not  sent. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

PRISONERS 

The  turnkey  at  the  inner  door  was  slothful, 
sleepy  and  ill  disposed  to  listen  when  he  heard  that 
certain  callers  would  be  admitted  to  the  prisoner 
John  Law. 

"'Tis  late/'  said  he,  "and  besides,  'tis  contrary 
to  the  rules.  Must  not  a  prison  have  rules?  Tell 
me  that !" 

"We  have  come  to  arrange  for  certain  matters 
regarding  Mr.  Law's  defense,"  said  Mary  Connynge, 
as  she  threw  back  her  cloak  and  bent  upon  the  turn 
key  the  full  glance  of  her  dark  eye.  "Surely  you 
would  not  deny  us." 

The  turnkey  looked  at  Will  Law  with  a  hesitation 
in  his  attitude.  "Why,  this  gentleman  I  know,"  he 
began. 

"Yes;  let  us  in,"  cried  Will  Law,  with  sudden  en 
ergy.  "'Tis  time  that  we  took  steps  to  set  my 
brother  free." 

"True,  so  say  they  all,  young  master,"  replied 
(120) 


PRISONERS  121 

the  turnkey,  grinning.  "  'Tis  easy  to  get  ye  in,  but 
passing  hard  to  get  ye  out  again.  Yet,  since  the 
young  man  ye  wish  to  see  is  a  very  decent  gentleman, 
and  knoweth  well  the  needs  of  a  poor  working  body 
like  myself,  we  will  take  the  matter  under  advise 
ment,  as  the  court  saith,  forsooth." 

They  passed  through  the  heavy  gates,  down  a 
narrow  and  heavy-aired  passage,  and  finally  into  a 
naked  room.  It  was  here,  in  such  somber  surround 
ings,  that  Mary  Connynge  saw  again  the  man  whose 
image  had  been  graven  on  her  heart  ever  since  that 
morn  at  Sadler's  Wells.  How  her  heart  coveted 
him,  how  her  blood  leaped  for  him — these  things 
the  Mary  Connynges  of  the  world  can  tell,  they 
who  own  the  primeval  heart  of  womankind. 

When  John  Law  himself  at  length  entered  the 
room,  he  stepped  forward  at  first  confidently,  eagerly, 
though  with  surprise  upon  his  face.  Then,  with  a 
sudden  hesitation,  he  looked  sharply  at  the  figure 
which  he  saw  awaiting  him  in  the  dingy  room.  His 
breath  came  sharp,  and  ended  in  a  sigh.  For  a 
half  moment  his  face  flushed,  his  brow  showed  ques 
tion  and  annoyance.  Yet  rapidly,  after  his  fashion, 
he  mastered  himself. 

"Will,"  said  he,  calmly,  to  his  brother,  "kindly 
ask  the  coachman  to  wait  for  this  lady." 

He  stood  for  a  moment  gazing  after  the  form  of 


122          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

his  brother  as  it  disappeared  in  the  outer  shadows. 
For  this  half-moment  he  took  swift  counsel  of  him 
self.  It  was  a  face  calm  and  noncommittal  that  he 
turned  toward  the  girl  who  sat  now  in  the  darkest 
corner  of  the  room,  her  head  cast  down,  her  foot 
beating  a  signal  of  perturbation  upon  the  floor. 
From  the  corner  of  her  eye  Mary  Connynge  saw  him, 
a  tall  and  manly  man,  superbly  clad,  faultless  in 
physique  and  raiment  from  top  to  toe.  He  stood 
as  though  ready  to  step  into  his  carriage  for  some 
voyage  to  rout  or  ball.  Youth,  vigor,  self-reliance, 
confidence,  this  was  the  whole  message  of  the  splendid 
figure.  The  blood  of  Mary  Connynge,  this  survival, 
this  half-savage  woman,  unregulated,  unsubdued, 
leaped  high  within  her  bosom,  fled  to  her  face,  gave 
color  to  her  cheek  and  brightness  to  her  eye.  Her 
breath  shortened  after  feline  fashion.  Deep  was 
calling  unto  deep,  ancient  unto  ancient,  primitive 
unto  primitive.  Without  the  gate  of  London  prison 
there  was  one  abject  prisoner.  Within  its  gates 
there  were  two  prisoners,  and  one  of  them  was  slave 
for  life ! 

i  "Madam,"  said  John  Law,  in  deep  and  vibrant 
tone,  "you  will  pardon  me  if  I  say  that  it  gives  me 
surprise  to  see  you  here." 

i.    "Yes ;  I  have  come,"  said  the  girl,  not  logically. 
"You  bring,  perhaps,  some  message?" 


PRISONERS  123 

"I — I  brought  a  message." 

"It  is  from  the  Lady  Catharine  ?" 

Mary  Connynge  was  silent  for  a  moment.  It 
was  necessary  that,  at  least  for  a  moment,  the  poison 
of  some  aeons  should  distil.  There  was  need  of  sav 
agery  to  say  what  she  proposed  to  say.  The  voice 
of  training,  of  civilization,  of  unselfishness,  of 
friendship  raised  a  protest.  Wait  then  for  a  moment. 
Wait  until  the  bitterness  of  an  ambitious  and  un 
rounded  life  could  formulate  this  evil  impulse. 
Wait,  till  Mary  Connynge  could  summon  treachery 
enough  to  slay  her  friend.  And  yet,  wait  only  un 
til  the  primitive  soul  of  Mary  Connynge  should 
become  altogether  imperative  in  its  demands!  For 
after  all,  was  not  this  friend  a  woman,  and  is  not 
the  earth  builded  as  it  is  ?  And  hath  not  God  made 
male  and  female  its  inhabitants ;  and  as  there  is  war 
of  male  and  male,  is  there  not  war  of  female  and  fe 
male,  until  the  end  of  time  ? 

"I  came  from  the  Lady  Catharine,"  said  Mary 
Connynge,  slowly,  "but  I  bring  no  message  from  her 
of  the  sort  which  perhaps  you  wished."  It  was  a 
desperate,  reckless  lie,  a  lie  almost  certain  of  detec 
tion;  yet  it  was  the  only  resource  of  the  moment, 
and  a  moment  later  it  was  too  late  to  recall.  One 
lie  must  now  follow  another,  and  all  must  make  a 
deadly  coil. 


124          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

"Madam,  I  am  sorry/'  said  John  Law,  quietly, 
yet  his  face  twitched  sharply  at  the  impact  of  these 
cutting  words.  "Did  you  know  of  my  letter  to 
her?" 

"Am  I  not  here  ?"  said  Mary  Connynge. 

"True,  and  I  thank  you  deeply.  But  how,  why — 
pray  you,  understand  that  I  would  be  set  right.  I 
would  not  undergo  more  than  is  necessary.  Will  you 
not  explain?" 

"TJiere  is  but  little  to  explain — little,  though  it 
may  mean  much.  It  must  be  private.  Your  brother 
— he  must  never  know.  Promise  me  not  to  speak 
to  him  of  this/' 

"This  means  much  to  me,  I  doubt  not,  my  dear 
lady,"  said  John  Law.  "I  trust  I  may  keep  my 
counsel  in  a  matter  which  comes  so  close  to  me." 

"Yes,  truly,"  replied  Mary  Connynge,  "if  you  had 
set  your  heart  upon  a  kindly  answer." 

"What !    You  mean,  then,  that  she—" 

"Do  you  promise  ?" 

The  brows  of  Law  settled  deeper  and  deeper  into 
the  frown  which  marked  him  when  he  was  perturbed. 
The  blood,  settled  back,  now  slowly  mounted  again 
into  his  face,  the  resentful,  fighting  blood  of  the 
Highlander. 

"I  promise,"  he  cried.  "And  now,  tell  me  what 
answer  had  the  Lady  Catharine  Knollys." 


PRISONERS  125 

"She  declined  to  answer,"  said  Mary  Connynge, 
slowly  and  evenly.  "Declined  to  come.  She  said 
that  she  was  ill  enough  pleased  to  hear  of  your 
brawling.  Said  that  she  doubted  not  the  law  would 
punish  you,  nor  doubted  that  the  law  was  just." 

John  Law  half  whirled  upon  his  heel,  smote  his 
hands  together  and  laughed  loud  and  bitterly. 

"Madam,"  said  he,  "I  had  never  thought  to  say 
it  to  a  woman,  but  in  very  justice  I  must  tell  you  that 
I  see  quite  through  this  shallow  falsehood."  • 

"Sir,"  said  Mary  Connynge,  her  hands  clutching 
at  the  arms  of  her  chair,  "this  is  unusual  speech 
to  a  lady !" 

"But  your  story,  Madam,  is  most  unusual." 

"Tell  me,  then,  why  should  I  be  here?"  burst  out 
the  girl.  "What  is  it  to  me?  Why  should  I  care 
what  the  Lady  Catharine  says  or  does  ?  Why  should 
I  risk  my  own  name  to  come  of  this  errand  in  the 
night  ?  Now  let  me  pass,  for  I  shall  leave  you." 

The  swift  jealous  rage  of  Mary  Connynge  was 
unpremeditated,  yet  nothing  had  better  served  her 
real  purpose.  The  stubborn  nature  of  Law  was 
ever  ready  for  a  challenge.  He  caught  her  arm, 
and  placed  her  not  unkindly  upon  the  chair. 

"By  heaven,  I  half  believe  what  you  say  is  true  \" 
said  he,  as  though  to  himself. 


126          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

"Yet  you  just  said  'twas  false,"  said  the  girl,  her 
eyes  flashing. 

"I  meant  that  what  you  add  is  true,  and  hence 
the  first  also  must  be  believed.  Then  you  saw  my 
message  ?" 

"I  did,  since  it  so  fell  out." 

"But  you  did  not  read  the  real  message.  I  asked 
no  aid  of  any  one  for  my  escape.  I  but  asked  her 
to  come.  In  sheer  truth,  I  wished  but  to  see  her." 

"And  by  what  right  could  you  expect  that?" 

"I  asked  her  as  my  affianced  wife,"  replied  John 
Law. 

Mary  Connynge  stood  an  inch  taller,  as  she  sprang 
to  her  feet  in  sudden  scorn  and  bitterness. 

"Your  affianced  wife!"  cried  she.  "What!  So 
soon!  Oh,  rare  indeed  must  be  my  opinion  of  this 
Lady  Catharine !" 

"It  was  never  my  way  to  waste  time  on  a  journey," 
said  John  Law,  coolly. 

"Your  wife,  your  affianced  wife  ?" 

"As  I  said." 

"Yes,"  cried  Mary  Connynge,  bitterly,  and  again, 
unconsciously  and  in  sheer  anger,  falling  upon  that 
course  which  best  served  her  purpose.  "And  what 
manner  of  affianced  wife  is  it  would  forsake  her 
lover  at  the  first  breath  of  trouble?  My  God!  'tis 


PRISONERS  127 

then,  it  seems  to  me,  a  woman  would  most  swiftly 
fly  to  the  man  she  loved." 

John  Law  turned  slowly  toward  her,  his  eyes 
scanning  her  closely  from  top  to  toe,  noting  the 
heaving  of  her  bosom,  the  sparkling  of  her  gold- 
colored  eye,  now  darkened  and  half  ready  to  dis 
solve  in  tears.  He  stood  as  though  he  were  a  judge, 
weighing  the  evidence  before  him,  calmly,  dispas 
sionately. 

"Would  you  do  so  much  as  that,  Mary  Connynge  ?" 
asked  John  Law. 

"I,  sir?"  she  replied.  "Then  why  am  I  here  to 
night  myself  ?  But,  God  pity  me,  what  have  I  said  ? 
There  is  nothing  but  misfortune  in  all  my  life !" 

It  was  one  rebellious,  unsubdued  nature  speaking 
to  another,  and  of  the  two  each  was  now  having 
its  own  sharp  suffering.  The  instant  of  doubt  is 
the  time  of  danger.  Then  comes  revulsion,  bitter 
ness,  despair,  folly.  John  Law  trod  a  step  nearer. 

"By  God!  Madam,"  cried  he,  "I  would  I  might 
believe  you.  I  would  I  might  believe  that  you,  that 
any  woman,  would  come  to  me  at  such  a  time! 
But  tell  me — and  I  bethink  me  my  message  was  not 
addressed,  was  even  unsigned — whom  then  may  I 
trust  ?  If  this  woman  scorns  my  call  at  such  a  time, 
tell  me,  whom  shall  I  hold  faithful?  Who  would 


128          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

come  to  me  at  any  time,  in  any  case,  in  my  trouble  ? 
Suppose  my  message  were  to  you?" 

Mary  Connynge  stirred  softly  under  her  deep 
cloak.  Her  head  was  lifted  slightly,  the  curve  of 
cheek  and  chin  showing  in  the  light  that  fell  from 
the  little  lamp.  The  masses  of  her  dark  hair  lay 
piled  about  her  face,  tumbled  by  the  sweeping  of 
her  hood.  Her  eyes  showed  tremulously  soft  and 
deep  now  as  he  looked  into  them.  Her  little  hands 
half  twitched  a  trifle  from  her  lap  and  reached  for 
ward  and  upward.  Primitive  she  might  have  been, 
wicked  she  was,  sinfully  sweet;  and  yet  she  was 
woman.  It  was  with  the  voice  of  tears  that  she 
spoke,  if  one  might  claim  vocalization  for  her 
speech. 

"Have  I  not  come?"  whispered  she 

"By  God !  Mary  Connynge,  yes,  you  have  come  \" 
cried  Law.  And  though  there  was  heartbreak  in 
his  voice,  it  sounded  sweet  to  the  ear  of  her  who 
heard  it,  and  who  now  reached  up  her  arms  about 
his  neck. 

"Ah,  John  Law,"  said  Mary  Connynge,  "when  a 
woman  loves — when  a  woman  loves,  she  stops  at 
nothing !" 


CHAPTER  XV 

IP   THERE   WERE   NEED 

Time  wore  on  in  the  ancient  capital  of  England. 
The  tramp  of  troops  echoed  in  the  streets,  and  the 
fleets  of  Britain  made  ready  to  carry  her  sons  over 
seas  for  wars  and  for  adventures.  The  intrigues 
of  party  against  party,  of  church  against  church, 
of  Parliament  against  king;  the  loves,  the  hates, 
the  ambitions,  the  desires  of  all  the  city's  hurrying 
thousands  went  on  as  ever.  Who,  then,  should  re 
member  a  single  prisoner,  waiting  within  the  walls 
of  England's  jail?  The  hours  wore  on  slowly 
enough  for  that  prisoner.  He  had  faced  a  jury  of 
his  peers  and  was  condemned  to  face  the  gallows. 
Meantime  he  had  said  farewell  to  love  and  hope 
and  faithfulness,  even  as  he  bade  farewell  to  life. 
"Since  she  has  forsaken  me  whom  I  thought  faith 
ful,"  said  he  to  himself,  "why,  let  it  end,  for  life 
is  a  mockery  I  would  not  live  out."  And  thence 
forth,  haggard  but  laughing,  pale  but  with  un 
broken  courage,  he  trod  on  his  way  through  his 
(129) 


130          THE   MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

few  remaining  days,  the  wonder  of  those  who  saw 
him. 

As  for  Mary  Connynge,  surely  she  had  matters 
enough  which  were  best  kept  secret  in  her  own 
soul.  While  Lady  Catharine  was  hoping,  and  pray 
ing,  and  dreaming  and  believing,  even  as  the  roses 
left  her  cheek  and  the  hollows  fell  beneath  her  eyes, 
she  saw  about  her  in  the  daily  walks  of  life  Mary 
Connynge,  sleek  and  rounded  as  ever.  They  sat 
at  table  together,  and  neither  did  the  one  make 
sign  to  the  other  of  her  own  anxiety,  nor  did  that 
other  give  sign  of  her  own  treachery.  Mary  Con 
nynge,  false  guest,  false  friend,  false  woman,  de 
ceived  so  perfectly  that  she  left  no  indication  of  de 
ceit.  She  herself  knew,  and  blindly  satisfied  herself 
with  the  knowledge,  that  she  alone  now  came  close 
into  the  life  of  "Beau"  Law,  the  convict;  "Jessamy" 
Law,  the  student,  the  financier,  the  thinker;  John 
Law,  her  lord  and  master.  Herein  she  found  the  sole 
compensation  possible  in  her  savage  nature.  She 
had  found  the  master  whom  she  sought ! 

Cynically  mirthful  or  irreverently  indifferent,  yet 
never  did  her  master's  strength  forsake  him,  never 
did  his  heart  lose  its  undauntedness.  And  when  he 
bade  Mary  Connynge  do  this  or  that  she  obeyed  him ; 
when  he  bade  her  arise  she  arose;  at  his  word  she 
came  or  departed.  A  dozen  nights  in  the  month 


IF   THERE   WERE    NEED  131 

she  was  absent  from  the  house  of  Knollys.  A  dozen 
nights  Will  Law  was  cozened  into  frenzy,  alternat 
ing  between  a  heaven  of  delight  and  a  hell  of  de 
spair,  and  ignorant  of  her  twofold  duplicity.  A 
dozen  nights  John  Law  knew  well  enough  where 
Mary  Connynge  was,  though  no  one  else  might 
know.  There  was  feminine  triumph  now  in  full 
in  the  heart  of  this  Mary  Connynge,  who  had  gone 
white  with  rage  at  the  sight  of  a  rose  offered  across 
her  face  to  another  woman.  Had  she  not  her  mas 
ter  ?  Was  he  not  hers,  all  hers,  belonging  in  no  wise 
to  any  other  ? 

For  the  future,  Mary  Connynge  did  not  ponder  it. 
An  ephemera,  once  buried  generations  deep  in  the 
mire  and  slime  of  lower  conditions,  and  now  crav 
ing  blindly  but  the  sunlight  of  the  day,  she  would 
have  sought  the  deadly  caress  of  life  even  though  at 
that  moment  it  had  sealed  her  doom.  Foolish  or 
wise,  she  was  as  she  was;  since,  under  our  frail 
society,  life  is  as  it  is. 

Only  at  night,  on  those  nights  when  she  was  sleep 
less  on  her  own  couch  beneath  the  roof  of  Catharine 
Knollys,  did  Mary  Connynge  allow  herself  to  think. 
Tell,  then,  ye  who  may,  whether  or  not  she  was 
a  mere  survival  of  some  forgotten  day  of  the 
forest  and  the  glade,  as  she  lay  with  her  hands 
clasped  in  brief  moments  of  emotion.  Surely  she 


132          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

hoped,  as  all  women  hope  who  love,  that  this  might 
endure  for  her  forever.  Yet  the  next  moment  there 
came  the  thought  that  inevitably  it  all  must  end, 
and  soon.  Then  her  hand  clenched,  her  eyes  grew 
dry  and  brilliant.  She  said  to  herself:  "There  is 
no  hope.  He  can  not  be  saved!  For  this  short 
period  of  his  life  he  shall  be  mine,  all  mine!  He 
shall  not  be  set  free !  He  shall  not  go  away,  to  be 
long,  at  any  time,  in  any  part,  to  any  other  woman ! 
Though  he  die,  yet  shall  he  love  me  to  the  end; 
me,  Mary  Connynge,  and  no  other  woman !" 

Now,  under  this  same  roof  of  Knollys,  separated 
by  but  a  few  yards  of  space,  there  lay  another 
woman,  thinking  also  of  this  convict  behind  the 
prison  bars.  But  this  was  a  woman  of  another  and 
a  nobler  mold.  Into  the  heart  of  Catharine  Knol 
lys  there  came  no  mere  mad  selfishness  of  desire, 
yearn  though  she  did  in  every  fiber  of  her  being 
since  that  first  time  she  felt  the  mastering  kiss  of 
love.  There  was  born  in  her  soul  emotion  of  a 
higher  sort.  The  Lady  Catharine  Knollys  prayed, 
and  her  prayer  was  not  that  her  lover  should  die, 
but  that  he  might  live;  that  he  might  be  free. 

N"or  was  this  hope  left  to  wither  unnourished 
in  the  mind  of  the  high-bred  and  courageous  En 
glish  girl.  Alone,  with  no  confidant  to  counsel  her, 


IF    THERE    WERE    NEED  133 

with  no  woman  friend  to  aid  her,  the  Lady  Catha 
rine  Knollys  backed  her  own  hopes  and  wishes  with 
resource  and  energy.  There  came  a  time,  peril 
ously  late,  when  a  faint  rose  showed  once  more 
in  her  cheek,  long  so  worn,  a  faintly  brighter  light 
glowed  in  her  deep  eye. 

When  Sir  Arthur  Pembroke  received  a  message 
from  the  Lady  Catharine  Knollys  advising  him  that 
the  latter  would  receive  him  at  her  home,  it  was 
left  for  the  impulses,  the  hopes,  the  imaginings  of 
that  modest  young  nobleman  to  establish  a  reason 
for  the  message.  Puzzling  all  along  his  rapid  way 
in  answer  to  the  summons,  Sir  Arthur  found  the 
answer  which  best  suited  his  hopes  in  the  faint 
flush,  the  brightened  eye  of  the  young  woman  who 
received  him. 

"Lady  Catharine,"  he  began,  impetuously,  "I  have 
come,  and  let  me  hope  that  'tis  at  last  to  have  my 
answer.  I  have  waited — each  moment  has  been  a 
year  that  I  have  spent  away  from  you." 

"Now,  that  is  very  pretty  said." 

"But  I  am  serious." 

"And  that  is  why  I  do  not  like  you." 

"But,  Lady  Catharine !" 

"I  should  like  it  better  did  you  but  continue  as 
in  the  past.  We  have  met  on  the  Row,  at  the 


134          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

routs  and  drums,  in  the  country;  and  always  I 
have  felt  free  to  ask  any  favor  of  Sir  Arthur  Pem 
broke.  Why  could  it  not  be  always  thus?" 

"You  might  ask  my  very  life,  Lady  Catharine." 

"Ah,  there  it  is !  When  a  man  offers  his  life,  'tis 
time  for  a  woman  to  ask  nothing." 

She  turned  from  the  open  window,  her  attitude 
showing  an  unwonted  weakness  and  dejection.  Sir 
Arthur  still  stood  near  by,  his  own  face  frowning 
and  uncertain. 

"Lady  Catharine,"  he  broke  out  at  length,  "for 
years,  as  you  know,  I  have  sought  your  favor.  I 
have  dared  think  that  sometime  the  day  would  come 
when — my  faith !  Lady  Catharine,  the  day  has  come 
now  when  I  feel  it  my  right  to  demand  the  cause 
of  anything  which  troubles  you.  And  that  you  are 
troubled  is  plain  enough.  Ever  since  this  man 
Law—" 

"There,"  cried  Lady  Catharine,  raising  her  hand. 
"I  beg  you  to  say  no  more." 

"But  I  will  say  more!  There  must  be  a  reason 
for  this." 

The  face  of  the  young  woman  flushed  in  spite  of 
herself,  as  Pembroke  strode  closer  and  gazed  at 
her  with  sternness. 

"Lady  Catharine,"  said  he,  slowly,  "I  am  a  friend 
of  jour  family.  Perhaps  now  I  may  be  of  aid  to 


IF    THERE    WEEE    NEED  135 

you.  Prove  me,  and  at  the  last,  ask  who  was  indeed 
your  friend." 

"We  have  had  misfortunes,  we  of  the  family  of 
the  Knollys,"  said  Lady  Catharine.  "This  is,  per 
haps,  but  the  fate  of  the  house  of  Knollys.  It  is 
my  fate." 

"Your  fate!"  said  Sir  Arthur,  slowly.  "Your 
fate!  Lady  Catharine,  I  thank  you.  It  is  at  least 
as  well  to  know  the  truth." 

"Pick  out  the  truth,  then,  Sir  Arthur,  as  you  like 
it.  I  am  not  on  the  witness  stand  before  you,  and 
you  are  not  my  judge.  There  has  been  forsworn 
testimony  enough  already  in  this  town.  Were  it 
not  for  that,  Mr.  Law  would  at  this  moment  be 
free  as  you  or  I." 

Sir  Arthur  struck  his  hands  together  in  despair, 
and  turning  away,  strode  down  the  room. 

"Oh,  I  see  it  all  well  enough,"  cried  he.  "You 
are  mad  as  any  who  have  hitherto  had  dealings 
with  this  madman  from  the  North." 

,The  girl  rose  to  her  full  height  and  stood  before 
him. 

"It  may  be  I  am  mad,"  said  she.  "It  may  be 
the  old  Knollys  madness.  If  so,  why  should  I  strug 
gle  against  it?  It  may  be  that  I  am  mad.  But 
I  venture  to  say  to  you  that  Mr.  Law  is  not  born 
to  die  in  Newgate  yards.  My  life!  sir,  if  I  love 


136          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

him,  who  should  say  me  nay?  Now,  say  to  your 
self,  and  to  your  friends — to  all  London,  if  you 
like,  since  you  have  touched  me  to  this  point — that 
Catharine  Knollys  is  friend  to  Mr.  Law,  and  be 
lieves  in  him,  and  declares  that  he  shall  be  freed 
from  his  prison,  and  that  within  short  space!  Say 
that,  Sir  Arthur;  tell  them  that!  And  if  they  ar 
gue  somewhat  from  it,  why,  let  them  reason  it  as 
best  they  may." 

The  young  man  stood,  his  lips  close  together, 
his  head  still  turned  away.  The  girl  continued  with 
growing  energy. 

"I  have  sent  for  you  to  tell  you  that  Mr.  Law's 
life  has  a  value  in  my  eyes.  And  now,  I  say  to 
you,  Sir  Arthur,  that  you  must  aid  me  in  his 
escape." 

A  beautiful  picture  she  made,  tearful,  pleading, 
a  lock  of  her  soft  red-brown  hair  falling  unnoticed 
across  her  tear-wet  cheek.  It  had  been  ill  task, 
indeed,  to  make  refusal  of  any  sort  to  a  woman  so 
gloriously  feminine,  so  noble,  now  so  beseeching. 

"Lady  Catharine,"  said  the  young  man,  turning 
toward  her,  "this  illness,  this  anxiety — " 

"No,  I  know  perfectly  well  whereof  I  speak! 
Listen,  and  I'll  tell  you  somewhat  of  news.  Mon 
tague,  chancellor  of  the  exchequer,  is  my  warrant 


IF   THERE    WERE    NEED  137 

for  what  I  say  to  you  when  I  tell  you  that  Mr.  Law 
is  to  be  free.  Montague  himself  has  said  to  me, 
in  this  very  room,  that  Mr.  Law  was  like  to  be  half 
the  salvation  of  England  in  these  uncertain  times. 
I  could  tell  you  more,  but  may  not.  Only  look  you, 
Sir  Arthur,  John  Law  does  not  rest  in  Newgate 
more  than  one  week  from  this  time  I" 

Sir  Arthur  took  snuff,  his  voice  at  length  re* 
gaining  that  composure  for  which  he  had  sought. 

"3Tis  very  excellent,"  he  said.  "For  myself,  two 
centuries  have  been  spent  in  my  family  to  teach 
me  to  love  like  a  gentleman,  and  to  deserve 
you  like  a  man.  What  does  this  young  man  need? 
A  few  days  of  bluster,  of  assertion!  A  few  weeks 
of  gaming  and  of  roistering,  of  self-asserted  claims ! 
Gad!  Lady  Catharine,  this  is  passing  bitter!  And 
now  you  ask  me  to  help  him." 

"I  wish  you  to  help  him,"  said  Lady  Catharine, 
slowly,  "only  in  that  I  ask  you  to  help  me." 

"And  if  I  did?" 

"And  if  you  did,  you  should  dwell  in  a  part  of 
my  heart  forever!  Let  it  be  as  you  like." 

"Then/*  cried  the  young  man,  flushing  suddenly 
and  hotly  as  he  strode  toward  her,  "do  with  me  as 
you  like !  Let  me  be  fool  unspeakable !" 

"And  do  you  promise?"  said  Lady  Catharine,  ris- 


138          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

ing  and  advancing  toward  him.  Her  face  was  sad 
and  appealing.  Her  eyes  swam  in  tears,  her  lips 
were  trembling. 

Sir  Arthur  held  out  his  hand.  The  Lady  Catha 
rine  extended  both  her  own,  and  he  bent  and  kissed 
them,  tears  springing  in  his  eyes.  For  a  time  the 
room  was  silent.  Then  the  girl  turned,  her  own 
lashes  wet.  She  stepped  at  length  to  a  cabinet  and 
took  from  an  inner  drawer  a  paper. 

"Sir  Arthur,  look  at  this,"  she  said. 

He  took  it  from  her  and  scrutinized  it  carefully. 

"Why,  this  seems  to  be  a  street  bill,  a  placard 
for  posting  upon  the  walls,"  said  he. 

"Read  it." 

"Yes,  well — so,  so.  'Five  hundred  pounds  reward 
for  information  regarding  the  escaped  felon,  Captain 
John  Law,  convicted  of  murder  and  under  sentence 
of  death  of  the  King's  Bench.  The  same  Law  es 
caped  from  Newgate  prison  on  the  night  of — hum — 
well — well — cMay  be  known  by  this  description:  Is 
tall,  of  dark  complexion,  spare  of  build,  raw-boned, 
face  hath  deep  pock-marks.  Eyes  dark;  hair  dark 
and  scanty.  Speaketh  broad  and  loud/  How — how, 
why  my  dear  Lady  Catharine,  this  is  the  last  proof 
that  thou'rt  stark,  staring  mad !  This  no  more  tal 
lies  with  the  true  John  Law  than  it  does  with  my 
hunting  'horse !" 


IF    THEEE    WERE    NEED  139 

"And  but  few  would  know  him  by  this  descrip 
tion?" 

"None,  absolutely  none." 

"None  could  tell  'twas  he,  even  did  they  meet 
him  full  face  to  face — no  one  would  know  it  was 
Mr.  Law?" 

"Why,  assuredly  not.  'Tis  as  unlike  him  as  it 
could  be." 

"Then  it  is  well!"  said  Lady  Catharine. 

"Well  ?    Very  badly  done,  I  should  say." 

"Oh,  my  poor  Sir  Arthur,  where  are  your  wits? 
'Tis  very  well  because  'tis  very  ill,  this  same  de 
scription." 

"Ah,  ha!"  said  he,  a  sudden  light  dawning  upon 
him.  "Then  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  this  descrip 
tion  was  misconceived  deliberately?" 

"What  would  you  think?" 

"Did  you  do  this  work  yourself?" 

"Guess  for  yourself.  Montague,  as  you  know,  was 
once  of  a  pretty  imagination,  ere  he  took  to  finance. 
If  he  and  the  poet  Prior  could  write  such  conceits 
as  they  have  created,  could  not  perhaps  Montague 
— or  Prior — or  some  one  else — have  conceived  this 
description  of  Mr.  Law?" 

The  young  man  threw  himself  into  a  seat,  his 
head  between  his  hands.  "'Tis  like  a  play,"  said 


140 

he.  "And  surely  the  play  of  fortune  ever  runs 
well  enough  for  Mr.  Law." 

"Sir  Arthur/'  said  Lady  Catharine,  rising  un 
easily  and  standing  before  him,  "I  must  confess 
to  you  that  I  bear  a  certain  active  part  in  private 
plans  looking  to  the  escape  of  Mr.  Law.  I  have 
come  to  you  for  aid.  Sir  Arthur,  I  pray  God  that 
we  may  be  successful." 

The  young  man  also  rose  and  began  to  pace  the 
floor. 

"Even  did  Law  escape,"  he  began,  "it  would  mean 
only  his  flight  from  England." 

"True,"  said  the  Lady  Catharine,  "that  is  all 
planned.  The  ship  even  now  awaits  him  in  the 
Pool.  He  is  to  take  ship  at  once  upon  leaving 
prison,  and  he  sails  at  once  from  England.  He 
goes  to  France." 

"But,  my  dear  Lady  Catharine,  this  means  that 
he  must  part  from  you." 

"Of  course,  it  means  our  parting." 

"Oh,  but  you  said — but  I  thought — " 

"But  I  said — but  you  thought — Sir  Arthur,  do 
not  stand  there  prating  like  a  little  boy!" 

"You  do  not,  then,  keep  your  prisoner  bound  by 
other  fetters  after  he  escapes  from  Newgate?" 

"I  do  nothing  unwomanly,  and  I  do  nothing,  I 


IF   THERE    WERE    NEED  141 

trust,  ignoble.  I  go  to  meet  the  Knollys  fate,  what 
ever  it  may  be." 

"Lady  Catharine,"  cried  Pembroke,  passionately, 
"I  have  said  I  loved  you.  Never  in  my  life  did  I 
love  you  as  I  do  now !" 

"I  like  to  hear  your  words,"  said  the  girl,  frankly. 
"There  shall  always  be  your  corner  in  my  heart — " 

"Yet  you  will  do  this  thing?" 

"I  will  do  this  thing.  I  shall  not  whimper  nor  re 
pine.  I  am  sending  him  away  forever,  but  'tis 
needful  for  his  sake.  I  shall  be  ready  for  what 
ever  fate  hath  for  me." 

"Tell  me,  then,"  said  Pembroke,  his  face  hag 
gard  and  unhappy,  "how  am  I  to  serve  you  in  this 
matter." 

"In  this  way:  To-morrow  night  call  here  with 
your  coach.  My  household,  if  they  note  it,  may  take 
your  coach  for  my  own,  and  may  perhaps  understand 
that  I  go  to  the  rout  of  my  Lady  Swearingsham. 
We  shall  go,  instead,  to  Newgate.  For  the  night, 
Sir  Arthur  Pembroke  shall  serve  as  coachman.  You 
must  drive  the  carriage  to  Newgate  jail." 

"And  'tis  there,"  said  Pembroke,  slowly,  "that 
the  Lady  Catharine  Knollys,  the  dearest  woman  of 
all  England,  would  take  the  man  who  honorably 
loves  her — to  Newgate,  to  feloniously  set  free  a 


142         THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

felon  ?  Is  it  there,  then,  Lady  Catharine,  you  would 
go  to  meet  your  lover  ?" 

The  tall  figure  of  the  girl  straightened  up  to  its 
full  height.  A  shade  of  color  came  to  her  cheeks, 
but  her  voice  was  firm,  though  tears  came  to  her 
eyes  as  she  answered: 

"Aye,  sir,  I  would  go  to  Newgate  if  there  were 
need!" 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  ESCAPE 

On  a  certain  morning  a  messenger  rode  in  hot 
haste  up  to  the  prison  gate.  He  bore  the  livery 
of  Montague.  Turnkey  after  turnkey  admitted  him, 
until  finally  he  stood  before  the  cell  of  John  Law 
and  delivered  into  his  hand,  as  he  had  been  com 
manded,  the  message  that  he  bore.  That  after 
noon  this  same  messenger  paused  at  the  gate  of 
the  house  of  Knollys.  Here,  too,  he  was  admitted 
promptly.  He  delivered  into  the  hands  of  the  Lady 
Catharine  Knollys  a  certain  message.  This  was 
of  a  Wednesday.  On  the  following  Friday  it  was 
decreed  that  the  gallows  should  do  its  work.  Two 
more  days  and  there  would  be  an  end  of  "Jessamy" 
Law. 

That  Wednesday  night  a  covered  carriage  came  to 
the  door  of  the  house  of  Knollys.  Its  driver  was 
muffled  in  such  fashion  that  he  could  hardly  have 
been  known.  There  stepped  from  the  house  the 
cloaked  figure  of  a  woman,  who  entered  the  carriage 
(143) 


144          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

and  herself  pulled  shut  the  door.     The  vehicle  was 
soon  lost  among  the  darkling  streets. 

Catharine  Knollys  had  heard  the  summons  of 
her  fate.  She  now  sat  trembling  in  the  carriage. 

When  finally  the  vehicle  stopped  at  the  curb  of  the 
walk  which  led  to  the  prison  gate,  a  second  carriage, 
as  mysterious  as  the  first,  came  down  the  street 
and  stopped  at  a  little  distance,  but  close  to  the 
curb  on  the  side  nearest  to  the  gate.  The  driver 
of  the  first  carriage,  evidently  not  liking  the  close 
neighborhood  at  the  time,  edged  a  trifle  farther  down 
the  way.  The  second  carriage  thereupon  drew  up 
into  the  spot  just  vacated,  and  the  two,  not  easily 
distinguishable  at  the  hour  and  in  the  dark  and 
unlighted  street,  stood  so,  each  apparently  watch 
ful  of  the  other,  each  seemingly  without  an  occupant. 

Lady  Catharine  had  left  her  carriage  before  this 
interchange,  and  had  passed  the  prison  gate  alone. 
Her  steps  faltered.  It  was  hardly  consciously  that 
she  finally  found  her  way  into  the  court,  through 
the  gate,  down  the  evil-smelling  corridors,  past  the 
sodden  and  leering  constables,  up  to  the  last  gate 
which  separated  her  from  him  whom  she  had  come 
to  see. 

She  had  been  admitted  without  demur  as  far  as  this 
point,  and  even  now  her  coming  seemed  not  alto 
gether  a  matter  of  surprise.  The  burly  turnkey 


THE    ESCAPE  145 

at  the  last  door  stood  ready  to  meet  her.  With  loud 
commands,  he  drove  out  of  the  corridor  the  crowd 
of  prison  attendants.  He  approached  Lady  Cath 
arine,  hat  in  hand  and  bowing  deeply. 

"I  presume  you  are  the  man  whom  I  would  see," 
said  she,  faintly,  almost  unequal  to  the  task  imposed 
upon  her. 

"Aye,  Madam,  I  doubt  not,  witK  my  best  worship 
for  you." 

"I  was  to  come" — said  Lady  Catharine.  "I  was 
to  speak  to  you — " 

"Aye,"  replied  the  turnkey.  "You  were  to  come, 
and  you  were  to  speak.  And  now,  what  were  you 
to  say  to  me?  Was  there  no  given  word?" 

"There  was  such  a  word,"  she  said.  "You  will 
understand.  It  is  in  the  matter  of  Mr.  Law." 

"True,"  said  the  turnkey.  "But  I  must  have  the 
countersign.  There  are  heads  to  lose  in  this,  yours 
and  mine,  if  there  be  mistake." 

Lady  Catharine  raised  her  head  proudly.  "It  was 
for  Faith,"  said  she,  "for  Love,  and  for  Hope! 
These  were  the  words." 

Saying  which,  as  though  she  had  called  to  her  aid 
the  last  atom  of  her  strength,  she  staggered  back 
and  half  fell  against  the  wall  near  the  inner  gate. 
The  rude  jailer  sprang  forward  to  steady  her. 

"Yes,    yes,"    he    whispered,    eagerly.     "'Tis    all 


146          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

proper.     Those  be  the  words.     Pray  you,  have  cour 
age,  lady."  y 

There  came  into  the  corridor  a  murmur  of  voices, 
and  there  was  audible  also  the  sound  of  a  man's 
footfalls  approaching  along  the  flags.  Catharine 
Knollys  looked  through  the  bars  of  the  gate  which 
the  turnkey  was  already  beginning  to  throw  open 
for  her.  She  looked,  and  there  appeared  upon  her 
vision  a  sight  which  caused  her  heart  to  stop,  which 
confounded  all  her  reason.  From  a  side  door  there 
advanced  John  Law,  magnificently  clad,  walking 
now  as  though  he  trod  the  floor  of  some  great  hall 
or  banquet  room. 

The  woman  waiting  without  the  gate  reached  out 
her  arms.  She  would  have  cried  aloud.  Then  she 
fell  back  against  the  wall,  whereat  had  she  not 
grasped  she  must  have  sunk  down  to  the  floor. 

Upon  the  arm  of  John  Law,  and  looking  up  to 
him  as  she  walked,  there  hung  the  clinging  figure 
of  a  woman,  half -hidden  by  the  flickering  shadows  of 
the  torches.  A  deep  cloak  fell  back  from  her  shoul 
ders.  It  might  have  been  the  light  fabric  of  the 
aborigine.  Upon  the  foot  of  Mary  Connynge, 
twinkling  in  and  out  as  she  walked,  showed  the 
crudely  garnished  little  shoe  of  the  Indian  princess 
over  seas,  dainty,  bizarre,  singular,  covering  the 
smallest  foot  in  all  London  town. 


THE    ESCAPE  147 

"By  all  the  saints!'*  Law  was  saying,  "you  might 
be  the  very  maker  of  this  little  slipper  yourself. 
I  have  won  the  forty  crowns,  I  swear!  Perforce, 
I'll  leave  them  to  you  in  my  will." 

The  shock  of  the  light  speech  made  even  Mary 
Connynge  wince.  For  the  moment  she  averted  her 
eyes  from  the  handsome  face  above  her.  She  looked, 
and  saw  what  gave  her  greater  shock.  Law,  too, 
stared,  as  her  own  startled  gaze  grew  fixed.  He  ad 
vanced  close  to  the  gate,  only  to  start  back  in  a 
horror  of  surprise  which  racked  even  his  steeled 
composure. 

"Madam!"  he  cried;  and  then,  "Catharine!" 

Catharine  Knollys  made  no  answer  to  him, 
though  she  looked  straight  and  calmly  into  his  face, 
seeming  not  in  the  least  to  see  the  woman  near 
him.  Her  eyes  were  wide  and  shining.  "Sir,"  said 
she,  "keep  fast  to  Hope !  This  was  for  Faith,  and 
for  Love !" 

The  jailer  with  one  quick  gesture  swung  wide 
the  gate.  "Haste,  haste !"  he  cried.  "Quick  and 
begone!  This  night  may  mean  my  ruin!  Get  ye 
gone,  all  of  ye,  and  give  me  time  to  think.  Out 
with  ye  all,  for  I  must  lock  the  gate !" 

John  Law  passed  as  one  stupefied,  the  slender 
form  of  Mary  Connynge  still  upon  his  arm.  Hands 


148          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

of  men  hurried  them.  "Quick !  Into  the  carriage !" 
one  cried. 

And  now  the  sounds  of  feet  and  voices  approach- 
Ing  along  the  corridor  were  heard.  The  jailer 
swiftly  swung  the  heavy  gate  to  and  locked  it. 
Catharine  Knollys  caught  his  last  gesture,  which 
bade  her  hegone  as  fast  as  might  be.  Her  feet 
were  strangely  heavy,  in  spite  of  her.  She  reached 
the  curb  in  time  to  hear  only  the  whir  of  wheels 
as  a  carriage  sped  away  over  the  stones  of  the 
street.  She  stood  alone,  irresolute  for  half  an  in 
stant  as  the  crunch  of  wheels  spun  up  to  the  curb 
again.  A  hand  reached  out  and  beckoned;  involun 
tarily  she  obeyed  the  summons.  Her  wrist  was 
seized,  and  she  was  half  pulled  through  the  door  of 
the  carriage. 

"What!"  cried  a  voice.  "You,  Lady  Catharine! 
Why,  how  is  this?" 

It  was  the  voice  of  Will  Law,  whom  she  knew, 
but  who  certainly  was  not  the  one  who  had  brought 
her  hither.  The  Lady  Catharine  accepted  this  last 
situation  as  one  no  longer  able  to  reason.  She 
sank  down  in  the  carriage  seat,  shivering, 

"Is  all  well?"  asked  Will  Law,  eagerly. 

"He  is  safe,"  said  Lady  Catharine  Knollys.  "It 
is  done.  It  is  finished." 


THE   ESCAPE  149 

"What  does  this  mean?"  exclaimed  Will. 

"His  carriage — there  it  is.  It  goes  to  the  ship — - 
to  the  Pool.  He  and  Mary  Connynge  are  only  just 
ahead  of  us.  You  may  hear  the  wheels.  Do  you 
not  hear  them?"  She  spoke  with  leaden  voice,  and 
her  head  sank  heavily. 

"What!  My  brother — Mary  Connynge — in  that 
carriage — what  can  you  mean?  My  God!  Lady 
Catharine,  tell  me,  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  said  Catharine  Knollys.  All 
things  now  seemed  very  far  away  from  her.  Her 
head  sank  gently  forward,  and  she  heard  not  the 
words  of  the  man  who  frantically  sought  to  awaken 
her  to  speech. 

From  the  prison  to  London  Pool  was  a  journey 
of  some  distance  across  the  streets  of  London.  Will 
Law  called  out  to  the  driver  with  savagery  in  his 
voice.  He  shouted,  cursed,  implored,  promised,  and 
betimes  held  one  hand  under  the  soft,  heavy  tresses  of 
the  head  now  sunk  so  humbly  forward. 

The  mad  ride  ended  at  the  quay  on  Thames  side, 
where  the  shadows  of  the  tall  buildings  lay  rank 
and  thick  upon  the  earth,  where  tarry  smells  and 
evil  odors  filled  the  heavy  air,  penetrated  none  the 
less  by  the  savor  of  the  keen  salt  air.  More  than 
one  giant  form  was  outlined  in  the  broad  stream, 


150          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

vessels  tall  and  ghost-like  in  the  gloom,  shadowy, 
suggestive,  bearing  imprint  and  promise  of  far  lands 
across  the  sea. 

Here  was  the  initial  point  of  England's  great 
ness.  Here  on  this  heavy  stream  had  her  captains 
taken  ship.  Thence  had  sailed  her  admirals  to  en 
compass  all  the  world.  In  these  dark  massed  shad 
ows,  how  much  might  there  not  be  of  fate  and  mys 
tery  !  Whither  might  not  these  vessels  carry  one ! 
To  France,  to  the  far-off  Indies,  to  the  new-owned 
islands,  to  America  with  its  little  half-grown  ports. 
Whence  and  whither?  What  might  not  one  do,  here 
at  this  gateway  of  the  world? 

"To  the  brigantine  beyond!"  cried  Will  Law  to 
the  wherryman  who  came  up.  "We  want  Captain 
McMasters,  of  the  Polly  Perkins.  For  God's  sake, 
quick !  There's  that  afoot  must  be  caught  up  within 
the  moment,  do  you  hear !" 

The  wherryman  touched  his  cap  and  quickly  made 
ready  his  boat.  Will  Law,  understanding  naught 
of  this  swift  coil  of  events,  and  not  daring  to  leave 
Lady  Catharine  behind  him  at  the  carriage,  made 
down  the  stairway,  half  carrying  the  drooping  figure 
which  now  leaned  weakly  upon  his  shoulder. 

"Pull  now,  man !  Pull  as  you  never  did  before !" 
cried  he,  and  the  wherryman  bent  hard  to  his  oars. 

Yet  great  as  was  the  haste  of  those  who   put 


THE   ESCAPE  151 

forth  into  the  foggy  Thames,  it  was  more  than 
equalled  by  that  of  one  who  appeared  upon  the 
dock,  even  as  the  creak  of  the  oars  grew  fainter  in 
the  gloom.  There  came  the  rattle  of  wheels  upon 
the  quay,  and  the  sound  of  a  driver  lashing  his 
horses.  A  carriage  rolled  up,  and  there  sprang  from 
the  box  a  muffled  figure  which  resolved  itself  into 
the  very  embodiment  of  haste. 

"Hold  the  horses,  man!"  he  cried  to  the  nearest 
by-stander,  and  sprang  swiftly  to  the  head  of  the 
stairs,  where  a  loiterer  or  two  stood  idly  gazing  out 
into  the  mist  which  overhung  the  water. 

"Saw  you  aught  of  a  man,"  he  demanded  hastily, 
"a  man  and  a  woman,  a  tall  young  woman — you 
could  not  mistake  her?  'Twas  the  Polly  Green- 
way  they  should  have  found.  Tell  me,  for  God's 
sake,  has  any  boat  put  out  from  this  stair?" 

"Why,  sir,"  replied  one  of  the  wherrymen  who 
stood  near  by,  pipe  in  mouth  and  hand  in  pocket, 
"since  you  mention  it,  there  was  a  boat  started 
but  this  instant  for  midstream.  They  sought  Mc- 
Master's  brigantine,  the  Polly  Perkins,  that  lies 
waiting  for  the  tide.  'Twas,  as  you  say,  a  young 
gentleman,  and  with  him  was  a  young  woman.  I 
misdoubt  the  lady  was  ill." 

"Get  me  a  boat!"  cried  the  new-comer.  "A  sov 
ereign,  five  sovereigns,  ten  sovereigns,  a  hundred 


152          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

— but  that  ship  must  not  weigh  anchor  until  I 
board  her,  do  you  hear  I" 

The  ring  of  the  imperative  voice,  and  moreover 
the  ring  of  good  English  coin,  set  all  the  dock 
astir.  Straightway  there  came  up  another  wherry 
with  two  lusty  fellows,  who  laid  her  at  the  stair 
where  stood  the  impatient  stranger. 

"Hurry,  men!"  he  cried.  "'Tis  life  and  death 
— 'tis  more  than  life  and  death !" 

And  such  fortune  attended  Sir  Arthur  Pembroke 
that  forsooth  he  went  over  the  side  of  the  Polly  Per 
kins,  even  as  the  gray  dawn  began  to  break  over  the 
narrow  Thames,  and  even  as  the  anchor-song  of  the 
crew  struck  up. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

WHITHER 

A  few  hours  later  a  coppery  sun  slowly  dispersed 
the  morning  mists  above  the  Thames.  The  same 
sun  warmed  the  court-yards  of  the  London  jail, 
which  lately  had  confined  John  Law,  convicted  of 
the  murder  of  Beau  Wilson,  gentleman.  It  was 
discovered  that  the  said  John  Law  had,  in  some 
superhuman  fashion,  climhed  the  spiked  walls  of 
the  inner  yard.  The  jailer  pointed  out  the  very 
spot  where  this  act  had  been  done.  It  was  not  so 
plain  how  he  had  passed  the  outer  gates  of  the  prison, 
yet  those  were  not  wanting  who  said  that  he  had 
overpowered  the  turnkey  at  the  gate,  taken  from  him 
his  keys,  and  so  forced  his  way  out  into  London 
city. 

i  Far  and  wide  went  forth  the  proclamation  of 
reward  for  the  apprehension  of  this  escaped  convict. 
The  streets  of  London  were  placarded  broadcast 
with  bills  bearing  this  description  of  the  escaped 
prisoner : 

"Five  hundred  pounds  reward   for  information 
(153) 


154          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

regarding  the  escaped  felon,  John  Law,  convicted 
in  the  King's  Bench  of  murder  and  under  sentence 
of  death.  The  same  Law  escaped  from  prison  on 
the  night  of  20  July.  May  be  known  by  the 
following  description:  Is  tall,  of  dark  complexion, 
spare  of  build,  raw-boned,  face  hath  deep  pock- 
marks.  Eyes  dark,  hair  dark  and  scanty.  Speaks 
broad  and  loud.  Carries  his  shoulders  stooped,  and 
is  of  mean  appearance. 

"WESTON,  High  Sheriff. 
"Done  at  Newgate  prison,  this  21  July." 

Yet  though  the  authorities  of  the  law  made  full 
search  in  London,  and  indeed  in  other  of  the  prin 
cipal  cities  of  England,  they  got  no  word  of  the 
escaped  prisoner. 

The  clouded  dawn  which  broke  over  the  Thames 
below  the  Pool  might  have  told  its  own  story.  There 
sat  upon  the  deck  of  the  good  ship  Polly  Greenway, 
outbound  from  Thames'  mouth,  this  same  John 
Law.  He  regarded  idly  the  busy  scenes  of  the  ship 
ping  about  him.  His  gaze,  dull  and  listless,  looked 
without  joy  upon  the  dawn,  without  inquiry  upon 
the  far  horizon.  For  the  first  time  in  all  his  life 
John  Law  dropped  his  head  between  his  hands. 

Not  so  Mary  Connynge.     "Good  sir,"  cried  she, 


WHITHER  155 

merrily,  "'tis  morning.  Let's  break  our  fast,  and 
so  set  forth  proper  on  our  voyage." 

"So  now  we  are  free,"  said  Law,  dully.  "I  could 
swear  there  were  shackles  on  me." 

"Yes,  we  are  free,"  said  Mary  Connynge,  "and  all 
the  world  is  before  us.  But  saw  you  ever  in  all  your 
life  a  man  so  dumfounded  as  was  Sir  Arthur  when 
he  discovered  'twas  I,  and  not  the  Lady  Catharine, 
had  stepped  into  the  carriage?  That  confusion  of 
the  carriages  was  like  to  have  cost  us  everything. 
I  know  not  how  your  brother  made  such  mistake. 
He  said  he  would  fetch  me  home  the  night. 
Gemini!  It  sure  seems  a  long  way  about!  And 
where  may  be  your  brother  now,  or  Sir  Arthur,  or 
the  Lady  Catharine — why,  'tis  as  much  confused  as 
though  'twere  all  in  a  play !" 

"But  Sir  Arthur  cried  that  my  ship  was  for 
France.  Yet  here  they  tell  me  that  this  brigantine 
is  bound  for  the  mouth  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  in 
America!  What  then  of  this  other,  and  what  of 
my  brother — what  of  us — what  of — ?" 

"Why,  I  think  this,"  said  Mary  Connynge,  calmly. 
"That  you  do  very  well  to  be  rid  of  London  jail; 
and  for  my  own  part,  'tis  a  rare  appetite  the  salt  air 
ever  gives  me !" 

Upon  the  same  morning  tide  there  was  at  this 


156          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

very  moment  just  setting  aloft  her  sails  for  the 
first  high  airs  of  dawn  the  ship  of  McMasters,  the 
Polly  Perkins,  bound  for  the  port  of  Bre'st. 

She  came  down  scarce  a  half-dozen  cable  lengths 
behind  the  craft  which  bore  the  fugitives  now  begin 
ning  their  journey  toward  another  land.  Upon  the 
deck  of  this  ship,  even  as  upon  the  other,  there 
were  those  who  waited  eagerly  for  the  dawn.  There 
were  two  men  here,  Will  Law  and  Sir  Arthur  Pem 
broke,  and  whether  their  conversation  had  been 
more  eager  or  more  angry,  were  hard  to  tell.  Will 
Law,  broken  and  dejected,  his  heart  torn  by  a 
thousand  doubts  and  a  thousand  pains,  sat  listening, 
though  but  half  comprehending. 

"Every  plan  gone  wrong!"  cried  Sir  Arthur. 
"Every  plan  gone  wrong,  and  out  of  it  all  we 
can  only  say  that  he  has  escaped  from  prison  for 
whom  no  prison  could  be  enough  of  hell!  Though 
he  be  your  brother,  I  tell  it  to  your  face,  the  gal 
lows  had  been  too  good  for  John  Law!  Look  you 
below.  See  that  girl,  pure  as  an  angel,  as  noble  and 
generous  a  soul  as  ever  breathed — what  hath  she  done 
to  deserve  this  fate?  You  have  brought  her  from 
her  home,  and  to  that  home  she  can  not  now  return 
unsmirched.  And  all  this  for  a  man  who  is  at  this 
moment  fleeing  with  the  woman  whom  she  deemed 
her  friend!  What  is  there  left  in  life  for  her?" 


WHITHER  157 

Will  Law  groaned  and  buried  his  own  head  deeper 
in  his  hands.  "What  is  there  left  for  any  of  us?" 
said  he.  "What  is  there  left  for  me?" 

"For  you?"  said  Sir  Arthur,  questioningly. 
"Why,  the  next  ship  back  from  Brest,  or  from  any 
other  port  of  France.  JTis  somewhat  different  with 
a  woman." 

"You  do  not  understand,"  said  Will  Law.  "The 
separation  means  somewhat  for  me." 

"Surely  you  do  not  mean — you  have  no  reference 
to  Mary  Connynge?"  cried  Sir  Arthur. 

Will  bowed  his  head  abjectly  and  left  the  other 
to  guess  that  which  sat  upon  his  mind.  Sir  Ar 
thur  drew  a  long  breath  and  stopped  his  angry 
pacing  up  and  down. 

"It  ran  on  for  weeks,"  said  Will  Law.  "We  were 
to  have  been  married.  I  had  no  thought  of  this. 
'Twas  I  who  took  her  to  and  from  the  prison  regu 
larly,  and  'twas  thus  that  we  met.  She  told  me  she 
was  but  the  messenger  of  the  Lady  Catharine/' 

Sir  Arthur  drew  a  long,  slow  breath.  "Then  I 
may  say  to  you,"  said  he,  "that  your  brother,  John 
Law,  is  a  hundred  times  more  traitor  and  felon 
than  even  now  I  thought  him.  Yonder  he  goes" 
— and  he  shook  his  fist  into  the  enveloping  mist 
which  hung  above  the  waters.  "Yonder  he  goes, 
somewhere,  I  give  you  warning,  where  he  deems 


158          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

no  trail  shall  be  left  behind  him.  But  I  promise 
you,  whatever  be  your  own  wish,  I  shall  follow  him 
into  the  last  corner  of  the  earth,  but  he  shall  see 
me  and  give  account  for  this !  There  is  none  of  us 
he  has  not  deceived,  utterly,  and  like  a  black 
hearted  villain.  He  shall  account  for  it,  though 
it  be  years  from  now." 

So  now,  inch  by  inch,  fathom  after  fathom,  cable 
length  after  cable  length,  soon  knot  after  knot,  there 
sped  two  English  ships  out  into  the  open  seaway. 
Before  long  they  began  to  toss  restlessly  and  to  pull 
eagerly  at  the  helm  as  the  scent  of  the  salt  seas 
came  in.  Yet  neither  knew  fully  the  destination 
of  the  other,  and  neither  knew  that  upon  the  deck 
of  that  other  there  was  full  solution  of  those  ques 
tions  which  now  sat  so  heavily  upon  these  human 
hearts.  Thus,  silently,  slowly,  steadily,  the  two 
drew  outward  and  apart,  and  before  that  morn  was 
done,  both  were  tossing  widely  upon  the  swell  of 
that  sea  beyond  which  there  lay  so  much  of  fate 
and  mystery. 


CHAPTEK  I 

THE   DOOE   OF   THE   WEST 

"Nearly  a  league  farther,  Du  Mesne,  and  the  sun 
but  an  hour  high.  Come,  let  us  hasten !" 

"You  are  right,  Monsieur  I/as,"  replied  the  one 
addressed,  as  the  first  speaker  seated  himself  on 
the  thwart  of  the  boat  in  whose  bow  he  had  been 
standing.  "Bend  to  it,  mes  amis!" 

John  Law  turned  about  on  the  seat,  gazing 
back  over  the  length  of  the  little  ship  which  had 
brought  him  and  his  comrades  thus  far  on  the 
wildest  journey  he  had  ever  undertaken.  Six  pad- 
dlers  there  were  for  this  great  canot  du  Nord,  and 
steadily  enough  they  sent  the  thin-shelled  craft  along 
over  the  curling  blue  waves  of  the  great  inland 
sea.  And  now  their  voices  in  one  accord  fell  into 
the  cadences  of  an  ancient  boat-song  of  New  France : 

"En  roulant  ma  boule,  roulant, 
Boulant,  rouler,  ma  l>oule  roulant." 
(161) 


162          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

The  ictus  of  the  measure  marked  time  for  the 
sweeping  paddles,  and  under  the  added  impetus  the 
paper  shell,  reinforced  as  it  was  by  close-laid  splints 
of  cedar,  and  braced  by  the  fiber-fastened  thwarts, 
fairly  yielded  to  the  rush  of  the  waves  as  the  stalwart 
paddlers  sent  it  flying  forward.  A  tiny  blur  of 
white  showed  about  the  bows,  and  now  and  again  a 
splash  of  spray  came  inboard,  as  some  little  curl 
ing  white  cap  was  divided  by  the  rush  of  the  swiftly 
moving  prow. 

"We  shall  not  arrive  too  soon,  my  friend,"  rejoined 
the  captain  of  the  voyageurs,  casting  an  eye  back 
across  the  great  lake,  which  lay  black  and  ominous 
under  a  threatening  sky,  the  sweep  and  swirl  of 
its  white  caps  ever  racing  hard  after  the  frail  craft, 
as  though  eager  to  break  through  its  paper  sides 
and  tear  away  the  human  beings  who  thus  fled  on 
so  lightly. 

This  boat,  mysteriously  appearing  as  though  it 
were  some  spirit  craft  called  from  the  ancient  deeps, 
was  far  from  the  beginning  of  its  wild  journey. 
Wide  as  the  eye  might  reach,  there  arose  no  fleck 
of  snowy  canvas,  nor  showed  the  dark  line  of  any 
similar  craft  propelled  by  oar  or  paddle.  They  were 
alone,  these  travelers.  Before  them,  at  the  entrance 
of  the  wide  arm  of  the  great  lake  Michiganon,  lay 
the  point  even  at  that  early  day  known  as  the  Door 


THE   DOOR   OF   THE   WEST          163 

of  the  West,  the  beginning  of  the  winding  water-way 
which  led  on  into  the  interior  of  that  West,  then 
so  alluring  and  unknown.  The  eyes  of  all  were 
fixed  on  the  low,  white-fronted  bluffs,  crowned 
by  dark  forest  growth,  which  guarded  the  bay  at 
either  hand.  This  spot,  so  wild,  so  remote,  so  sig 
nificant — it  was  home  for  these  voyageurs  as  much 
as  any;  as  much,  too,  for  Law  and  the  woman  who 
lay  back,  pale-faced  and  wide-eyed,  among  the  bales 
in  the  great  canoe. 

In  time  the  graceful  craft  approached  the  beach, 
on  which  the  long  waves  rolled  and  curled,  now 
gently,  now  with  imposing  force.  With  the  water 
yet  half-leg  deep,  Du  Mesne  and  two  of  the  pad- 
dlers  sprang  bodily  overboard  and  held  the  boat 
back  from  the  pebbles,  so  that  its  tender  shell  might 
not  be  damaged.  Law  himself  was  as  soon  as  they 
in  the  water,  and  he  waded  back  along  the  gun 
wale  until  he  reached  the  stern,  the  water  nearly  up 
to  his  hips.  Reaching  out  his  arms,  he  picked  up 
Mary  Connynge  from  her  seat  and  carried  her  dry- 
shod  ashore,  bending  down  to  catch  some  whispered 
word.  Not  so  gallant  was  Du  Mesne,  the  leader  of 
the  voyageurs.  He  uttered  a  few  short  words  of 
semi-command  to  the  Indian  woman,  who  had  been 
seated  on  the  floor  of  the  canoe,  and  she,  without 
protest,  crawled  forward  over  the  thwarts  and  the 


164          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

heaped  bundles  until  she  reached  the  bow,  and  then 
went  ankle  deep  into  the  creaming  flood.  The  great 
canoe,  left  empty  and  anchored  safe  from  the  peb 
bles  of  the  beach,  tossed  light  as  a  cork  on  the  in 
coming  waves. 

A  little  open  space  was  quickly  found  at  the  edge 
of  the  cove  in  which  the  disembarkation  was  made, 
and  here  Du  Mesne  and  his  followers  soon  kicked 
away  the  twigs  and  leveled  out  a  smooth  place  upon 
the  grass.  Each  man  produced  from  his  belt  a 
broad-bladed  knife,  and  for  the  moment  disappeared 
in  the  deep  fringe  of  evergreens  which  lined  the 
shore.  Fairly  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  a  rude 
frame  of  bent  poles  was  made,  above  which  were 
spread  strips  of  unrolled  birch  bark  from  the  cargo 
of  the  canoe.  Over  the  spaces  left  uncovered  by 
the  supply  of  bark  sheets  there  were  laid  down 
long  mats  made  by  Indian  hands  from  dried  reeds 
and  bulrushes,  affording  no  inconsiderable  protec 
tion  against  the  weather.  Inside  the  lodge,  bales 
of  goods  and  packages  of  provisions  were  quickly 
arranged  in  comfortable  fashion.  Gaudy  blankets 
were  spread  upon  layers  of  soft  skins  of  the  buf 
falo.  The  Indian  woman  had  meantime  struck  a 
fire,  whose  faint  blue  smoke  curled  lakeward  in  the 
soft  evening  air.  Quickly,  and  with  the  system  of 
experienced  campaigners,  the  evening  bivouac  had 


THE   DOOR   OF   THE   WEST          165 

been  prepared;  and  wildly  picturesque  it  must  have 
seemed  to  a  bystander,  had  there  been  indeed  any 
possible  spectator  within  many  leagues. 

Far  enough  was  this  from  the  turmoil  of  London, 
which  Law  and  his  companion  had  left  nearly  a 
year  before;  far  enough  still  from  the  wild  capital 
of  New  France,  where  they  had  spent  the  winter, 
after  landing,  as  much  by  chance  as  through  any 
plan,  at  the  port  of  the  St.  Lawrence.  Ever  a 
demon  of  unrest  drove  Law  forward;  ever  there 
beckoned  to  him  that  irresistible  West,  of  which  he 
was  one  of  the  earliest  to  feel  the  charm.  Farther 
and  farther  westward,  swift  and  swifter  than  ever  the 
boats  of  the  fur  traders  had  made  the  journey  before, 
he  and  his  party,  led  by  Du  Mesne,  the  ex-galley- 
slave  and  wanderer  whom  Law  had  by  chance  met 
again,  and  gladly,  at  Montreal,  had  made  the  long 
and  dangerous  run  up  the  lakes,  past  Michilimack- 
inac,  down  the  lake  of  Michiganon,  headed  toward 
the  interior  of  a  new  continent  which  was  then, 
as  for  generations  after  then,  the  land  of  wondrous 
distances,  of  grand  enterprises,  of  magnificent  prom 
ises  and  immense  fulfilments.  The  bales  and  bun 
dles  of  this  bivouac  belonged  to  John  Law,  bought 
by  gold  from  the  gaming  tables  of  Montreal  and  Que 
bec,  and  ventured  in  the  one  great  hazard  which  ap 
pealed  to  him  most  irresistibly,  the  hazard  of  life 


166          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

and  fortune  in  a  far  land,  where  he  might  live 
unneighbored,  and  where  he  might  forget.  Gam 
bler  in  England,  gambler  again  in  New  France,  now 
trading  fur-merchant  and  voyageur,  he  was,  as  al 
ways,  an  adventurer.  Du  Mesne  and  his  hardy 
crew  hailed  him  already  as  a  new  captain  of  the 
trails,  a  new  coureur,  won  from  the  Old  World  by  the 
savage  witchery  of  the  New.  He  was  their  brother ; 
and  had  he  indeed  owned  longer  years  of  training, 
his  keenness  of  eye,  his  strength  of  arm,  his  tireless- 
ness  of  limb  could  hardly  have  been  greater  than 
they  seemed  in  his  first  voyage  to  the  West. 

"Tons  les  printemps, 
Tant  des  nouvelles" 

hummed  Du  Mesne,  as  he  busied  himself  about  the 
camp,  casting  the  while  a  cautious  eye  to  note  the 
progress  of  the  threatening  storm. 

"Tons  les  amants 
Chang ent  des  maitresses. 
Jamais  le  bon  vin  n'endort — 
L 'amour  me  reveille!" 

"The  best  is  before  us  now,  Monsieur  L'as,"  said 
Du  Mesne,  joining  Law,  at  length.  "Assuredly  the 
best  is  always  that  which  is  ahead  and  which  is  un- 


THE   DOOR   OF   THE    WEST          167 

known ;  but  in  point  of  fact  the  hardest  of  our  jour 
ney  is  over,  for  henceforth  we  may  stretch  our  legs 
ashore,  and  hunt  and  fish,  and  make  good  camps 
for  madame,  who,  as  we  both  perceive,  is  much  in 
need  of  ease  and  care.  We  shall  make  all  safe  and 
comfortable  for  this  night,  doubt  not. 

"Meantime,"  continued  he,  "let  us  see  that  all 
is  well  with  our  men  and  arms,  for  henceforth  we 
must  put  out  guards.  Attention,  comrades!  Pre 
sent  your  pieces  and  answer  the  roll-call!  Pierre 
Berthier  1" 

"Id!  Monsieur,"  replied  the  one  better  known  as 
Pierre  Noir,  a  tall  and  dark-visaged  Canadian,  clad 
in  the  common  costume,  half-Indian  and  half-civil 
ized,  which  marked  his  class.  A  shirt  of  soft  dressed 
buckskin  fell  •  about  his  thighs ;  his  legs  were 
encased  in  moose-skin  leggings,  deeply  fringed  at 
the  seams.  About  his  middle  was  a  broad  sash, 
once  red,  and  upon  his  head  a  scanty  cap  of  similar 
color  was  pushed  back.  At  his  belt  hung  the  great 
hunting  knife  of  the  voyageur,  balanced  by  a  keen 
steel  tomahawk  such  as  was  in  common  use  among 
the  Indians.  In  his  hand  he  supported  a  long-bar 
reled  musket,  which  he  now  examined  carefully  in 
the  presence  of  the  captain  of  the  voyageurs. 

"Robert  Challon !"  next  commanded  Du  Mesne, 
and  in  turn  the  one  addressed  looked  over  his  piece, 


168 


the  captain  also  scrutinizing  the  flint  and  priming 
with  careful  eye. 

"Naturally,  mes  enfants"  said  he,  "your  weapons 
are  perfect,  as  ever.  Kataikini,  and  you,  Kabayan, 
my  brothers,  let  me  see,"  said  he  to  the  two  In 
dians,  the  former  a  Huron  and  the  latter  an  0 jib- 
way,  both  from  the  shores  of  Superior.  The  In 
dians  arose  silently,  and  without  protest  submitted 
to  the  scrutiny  which  ever  seemed  to  them  unneces 
sary. 

"Jean  Brebceuf!"  called  Du  Mesne;  and  in  re 
sponse  there  arose  from  the  shadows  a  wiry  little 
Frenchman,  who  might  have  been  of  any  age  from 
twenty  to  forty-five,  so  sun-burnt  and  wrinkled,  yet 
so  active  and  vigorous  did  he  seem. 

"Mon  ami"  said  Du  Mesne  to  him,  chidingly, 
"see  now,  here  is  your  flint  all  but  out  of  its  en 
gagement.  Pray  you,  have  better  care  of  your  piece.' 
For  this  you  shall  stand  the  long  watch  of  the 
night.  And  now  let  us  all  to  bed/' 

One  by  one  the  little  party  was  lost  to  view 
within  the  dark  interior  of  the  hut  which  they  had 
arranged  for  themselves.  Du  Mesne  retired  a  dis 
tance  from  the  fire  and  seated  himself  upon  a  fallen 
log,  his  pipe  glowing  like  a  coal  in  the  enveloping 
darkness. 

Law  himself  did  not  so  soon  leave  the  outer  air. 


THE   DOOR   OF   THE    WEST          169 

He  remained  gazing  out  at  the  wild  scene  about 
him,  at  the  rolling  waves  dashing  on  the  shore,  their 
crests  whitening  in  the  glare  of  the  lightning,  now 
approaching  more  closely.  He  harkened  to  the  roll 
of  the  far-off  thunder  reenforced  by  the  thunder  of 
the  waves  upon  the  shore,  and  noted  the  sweep  of  the 
black  forest  about,  of  the  black  sky  overhead,  unlit 
save  for  one  far-off,  faint  and  feeble  star. 

It  was  a  new  world,  this  that  lay  around  him,  a 
new  and  savage  world.  If  there  were  a  world  be 
hind  him,  a  world  which  once  held  sunlight  and 
flowers,  and  love  and  hope — why  then,  it  was  a  world 
lost  and  gone  forever,  and  it  was  very  well  that  this 
new  world  should  be  so  different  and  so  stern. 

In  the  darkness  John  Law  heard  a  voice,  the  voice 
of  a  woman  in  terror.  Swiftly  he  stepped  to  the 
door  of  the  rude  lodge. 

"Don't  let  them  sing  it  again — never  any  more — 
that  song." 

"And  what,  Madam?" 

"That  one  —  'Tons  Us  amants  changent  des 
mattresses!"' 

A  moment  later  she  whispered,  "I  am  afraid." 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  STORM 

Marshaling  to  the  imperious  orders  of  the  tem 
pest,  and  crowding  close  upon  the  flaming  standards 
of  the  lightning,  the  armies  of  the  clouds  came  on. 
The  sea-wide  surface  of  the  lake  went  dull,  and  above 
it  bent  a  sky  appalling  in  its  blackness.  The  wind 
at  first  was  light,  then  fitful  and  gusty,  like 
the  rising  choler  of  a  man  affronted  and  nursing 
his  own  anger.  It  gained  in  volume  and  swept  on 
across  the  tops  of  the  forest  trees,  as  though  with 
a  hand  contemptuous  in  its  strength,  forbearing 
only  by  reason  of  its  own  whimsy.  Now  and  again 
the  cohorts  of  the  clouds  just  hinted  at  parting, 
letting  through  a  pale  radiance  from  the  western 
sky,  where  lingered  the  departing  day.  This  light, 
as  did  the  illuminating  glare  of  the  forked  flames 
above,  disclosed  the  white  helmets  of  the  trooping 
waters,  rushing  on  with  thunderous  unison  of  tread ; 
and  the  rattling  thunder-shocks,  intermittent,  though 
coming  steadily  nearer,  served  but  to  emphasize  these 
(170) 


THE    STOKM  171 

foot  strokes  of  the  waves.  The  heavens  above  and 
the  waters  under  the  earth — these  conspired,  these 
marched  together,  to  assail,  to  overwhelm,  to  utterly 
destroy. 

To  destroy  what?  Why  this  wild  protest  of  the 
wilderness?  Was  it  this  wide-blown,  scattered 
fire,  whose  sparks  and  ashes  were  sown  broadcast, 
till  but  stubborn  remnants  clung  under  the  shel 
tering  back-log  of  the  bivouac  hearth?  Was  it  this 
frail  lodge,  built  upon  pliant,  yielding  poles,  cov 
ered  cunningly  with  mats  and  bark,  carpeted  with 
robe  of  elk  and  buffalo?  Yet  why  should  the  ele 
ments  rage  at  a  tiny  fire,  and  why  should  they 
tear  at  a  little  house  of  nomad  man,  since  these 
things  were  old  upon  the  earth?  Was  it  somewhat 
else  that  incited  this  elemental  rage?  This  might 
have  been;  for  surely,  builder  of  this  hearth-fire 
which  would  not  quench,  master  of  this  house  which 
would  not  yield,  there  was  now  come  up  to  the  door 
of  the  wilderness  the  white  man,  risen  from  the 
sea,  heralding  the  day  which  the  tribes  had  for 
generations  blindly  prophesied!  The  white  man, 
stern,  stubborn,  fruitful,  had  come  to  despoil  the 
West  of  its  secrets ! 

Let  all  the  elements  therefore  join  in  riotous 
revolt!  Let  earth  and  sea  and  sky  make  common 
cause!  Rage,  waves,  and  blaze,  ye  fiery  tongues, 


172          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

and  threaten,  forests,  with  all  your  ominous  voices! 
Smite,  destroy,  or  terrify  into  swift  retreat  this 
little  band!  Crush  out  their  tenement!  Loosen 
and  brush  off  this  feeble  finger-grasp  at  the  ancient 
threshold!  With  banners  of  flame,  with  armies  of 
darkness,  with  shoutings  of  the  captains  of  the 
storms,  assail,  denude,  destroy,  if  even  by  the  agony 
of  their  terrors,  these  feeble  folk  now  come  hither ! 
And  by  this  more  especially,  since  they  would  set 
the  seal  of  fruitfulness  upon  the  land,  and  bring 
upon  the  earth  a  generation  yet  to  follow.  Hover 
about  this  bed  in  the  frail  and  swaying  lodge  of 
bark  and  boughs,  all  ye  most  terrifying  spirits! 
Let  not  this  thing  be ! 

"Mother  of  God!"  cried  Jean  Brebceuf,  bending 
low  and  pulling  his  tunic  tighter  by  the  belt,  as 
he  came  gasping  into  the  faint  circle  of  light  which 
still  remained  at  the  fire  log.  "'Tis  murderous, 
this  storm!  Ah,  Monsieur  du  Mesne,  we  are  dead 
men !  But  what  matter  ?  'Tis  as  well  now  as  later. 
Said  I  not  so  to  you  all  the  way  down  Michiganon 
from  the  Straits?  A  rabbit  crossed  my  path  at 
the  last  camp  before  Michilimackinac,  and  when 
we  took  boat  to  leave  the  mission  at  the  Straits, 
three  crows  flew  directly  across  our  way.  Did  I 
not  beseech  you  to  turn  back?  Did  I  not  tell  you, 
most  of  all,  that  we  had  no  right,  honest  voyageurs 


THE    STORM  173 

that  we  are,  to  leave  for  the  woods  without  con 
fessing  to  the  good  father?  'Tis  two  years  now  since 
I  have  been  proper  shriven,  and  two  years  is  too 
long  for  a  voyageur  to  remain  unabsolved.  Mother 
of  God !  When  I  see  the  lightnings  and  listen  to 
that  wind,  I  bethink  me  of  my  sins — my  sins!  I 
vow  a  bale  of  beaver — " 

1  "Pish!  Jean,"  responded  Du  Mesne,  who  had 
come  in  from  the  cover  of  the  wood  and  was  casting 
about  in  the  darkness  as  best  he  might  to  see  that 
all  was  made  secure.  "Thou'lt  feel  better  when  the 
sun  shines  again.  Call  Pierre  Noir,  and  hurry, 
or  our  canoe  will  pound  to  bits  upon  the  beach. 
Come !" 

All  three  went  now  knee-deep  in  the  surf,  and  Du 
Mesne,  clinging  to  the  gunwale  as  he  passed  out,  was 
soon  waist  deep,  and  time  and  again  lost  his  footing 
in  the  flood. 

i  "Pull !"  he  cried  at  last.  "Now,  en  avant!"  He 
had  flung  himself  over  the  stern,  and  with  his  knife 
cut  the  hide  rope  of  the  anchor-stone.  Overboard 
again  in  an  instant,  he  joined  the  others  in  their  rush 
up  the  beach,  and  the  three  bore  their  ship  upon  their 
shoulders  above  the  reach  of  the  waves. 
i  "Myself,"  said  Pierre  Noir,  "shall  sleep  beneath 
the  boat  to-night,  for  since  she  sheds  water  from 
below,  she  may  do  as  well  from  above." 


174          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

"Even  so,  Pierre  Noir,"  said  Du  Mesne,  "but  get 
you  the  boat  farther  toward  your  own  camp  to-night. 
Do  you  not  see  that  Monsieur  L'as  is  not  with  us?" 

"EhlienF 

"And  were  he  not  surely  with  us  at  such  time, 
unless —  ?" 

"Oh,  assurement!"  replied  Pierre  Noir.  "Jean 
Breboeuf,  aid  me  in  taking  the  boat  back  to  our  camp 
in  the  woods." 

Now  came  the  rain.  Not  in  steady  and  even 
downpour,  not  with  intermittent  showers,  but  in  a 
sidelong,  terrifying  torrent,  drenching,  biting,  cut 
ting  in  its  violence.  The  swift  weight  of  the  rain 
gave  to  the  trees  more  burden  than  they  could  bear. 
As  before  the  storm,  when  all  was  still,  there  had 
come  time  and  again  the  warning  boom  of  a  falling 
tree,  stricken  with  mysterious  mortal  dread  of  that 
which  was  to  come,  so  now,  in  the  riot  of  that 
arrived  danger,  first  one  and  then  another  wide- 
armed  monarch  of  the  wood  crashed  down,  adding 
with  its  downfall  to  the  testimony  of  the  assailing 
tempest's  strength  and  fury.  The  lightning  now 
came  not  only  in  ragged  blazes  and  long  ripping 
lines  of  light,  but  in  bursts  and  shocks,  and  in  bomb- 
like  balls,  exploding  with  elemental  detonations. 
Balls  of  this  tense  surcharged  essence  rolled  out  over 
the  comb  of  the  bluff,  fell  upon  the  shadows  of  the 


THE    STORM  175 

water,  and  seemed  to  bound  from  crest  to  white- 
capped  crest,  till  at  last  they  split  and  burst  asunder 
like  some  ominous  missiles  from  engines  of  wrath 
and  destruction. 

And  now,  suddenly,  all  grew  still  again.  The 
sky  took  on  a  lighter,  livid  tone,  one  of  pure  venom. 
There  came  a  whisper,  a  murmur,  a  rush  as  of  mighty 
waters,  a  sighing  as  of  an  army  of  the  condemned, 
a  shrieking  as  of  legions  of  the  lost,  a  roaring  as 
of  all  the  soul-felt  tortures  of  a  world.  From  the 
forest  rose  a  continuous  rending  crash.  The  whip 
lash  of  the  tempest  cracked  the  tree  trunks  as  a 
child  beheads  a  row  of  daisies.  Piled  up,  falling, 
riven  asunder,  torn  out  by  the  wind,  the  giant  trees 
joined  the  toys  which  the  cynic  storm  gathered  in 
its  hands  and  bore  along  until  such  time  as  it  should 
please  to  crush  and  drop  them. 

There  passed  out  over  the  black  sea  of  Michi- 
ganon  a  vast  black  wraith;  a  thing  horrible,  tremen 
dous,  titanic  in  organic  power.  It  howled,  exe 
crated,  menaced;  missed  its  aim,  and  passed.  The 
little  swaying  house  still  stood!  Under  the  shel 
tered  log  some  tiny  sparks  of  fire  still  burned,  omen 
of  the  unquenchable  hearthstones  which  the  land 
was  yet  to  know ! 

"Holy  God!  what  was  it?  What  was  that  which 
passed?"  cried  Jean  Breboauf,  crawling  out  from 


176          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

beneath  his  shelter.  "Saint  Mary  defend  us  all 
this  night!  'Twas  the  great  Canoe  of  the  Damned, 
running  au  large?  across  the  sky !  Mary,  Mother  of 
God,  hear  my  vow !  From  this  time  Jean  Brebceuf 
shall  lead  a  better  life !" 

The  storm,  baffled,  passed  on.  The  rain,  unsat 
isfied,  sullenly  ceased  in  its  attack.  The  waves, 
hopeless  but  still  vindictive,  began  to  call  back  their 
legions  from  the  narrow  shore.  The  lightnings,  un- 
sated  in  their  wrath,  flared  and  flickered  on  and 
out  across  the  eastward  sea.  With  wild  laughter 
and  shrieks  and  imprecations,  the  spirit  of  the  tem 
pest  wailed  on  its  furious  way.  The  red  West  had 
raised  its  hand  to  smite,  but  it  had  not  smitten  sure. 

In  the  silence  of  the  night,  in  the  hush  follow 
ing  the  uproar  of  the  storm,  there  came  a  little 
wailing  cry;  so  faint,  so  feeble,  yet  so  mighty,  so 
conquering,  this  sign  of  the  coming  generation,  the 
voice  of  the  new-born  babe.  At  this  little  human 
voice,  born  of  sorrow  and  sin,  born  to  suffering 
and  to  knowledge,  born  to  life  in  all  its  wonders 
and  to  death  in  all  its  mystery — the  elements  per 
chance  relented  and  averted  their  fury.  Not  yet 
was  there  to  be  punished  sin,  or  wrong,  or  doubt,  or 
weakness.  Not  at  once  would  justice  punish  the 
parents  of  this  babe  and  blot  out  at  once  the  record 
of  their  fault.  Storm  and  lightning,  darkness  and 


THE    STOKM  177 

the  night  yielded  to  the  voice  of  the  infant  and  al 
lowed  the  old  story  of  humanity  and  sin,  and  hope 
and  mercy  to  run  on. 

The  babe  wailed  faintly  in  the  silence  of  the 
night.  Under  the  hearth-log  there  still  endured 
the  fire.  And  then  the  red  West,  seeing  itself  con 
quered,  smiled  and  flung  wide  its  arms,  and  greeted 
them  with  the  burgeoning  dawn,  and  the  voices  of 
birds,  with  a  sky  blue  and  repentant,  a  sun  smiling 
and  not  unkind. 


CHAPTER  HI 

AU  LARGE 

It  was  weeks  after  the  night  of  the  great  storm, 
and  the  camp  of  the  voyageurs  still  held  its  place 
on  the  shore  of  the  great  Green  Bay.  The  wild 
game  and  the  abundant  fishes  of  the  lake  gave  am 
ple  provender  for  the  party,  and  the  little  bivouac 
had  been  rendered  more  comfortable  in  many  ways 
best  known  to  those  dwellers  of  the  forest.  The 
light  jest,  the  burst  of  laughter,  the  careless  ease 
of  attitude  showed  the  light-hearted  voyageurs  con 
tent  with  this,  their  last  abode,  nor  for  the  time 
did  any  word  issue  which  threatened  to  end  their 
tarrying. 

Law  one  morning  strolled  out  from  the  lodge  and 
seated  himself  on  a  bit  of  driftwood  at  the  edge 
of  the  forest's  fringe  of  cedars,  where,  seemingly 
half  forgetting  himself  in  the  witchery  of  the  scene, 
he  gazed  out  idly  over  the  wide  prospect  which  lay 
before  him.  He  was  the  same  young  man  as  ever. 
Surely,  this  increased  gauntness  was  but  the  result 
(178) 


AU   LARGE  179 

of  long  hours  at  the  paddle,  the  hollow  cheeks  but 
betokened  hard  fare  and  the  defining  winds  of  the 
outdoor  air.  If  the  eye  were  a  trace  more  dim,  that 
could  be  due  but  to  the  reflectiveness  induced  by 
the  quiet  scene  and  hour.  Yet  why  should  John 
Law,  young  and  refreshed,  drop  chin  in  hand  and 
sit  there  moodily  looking  ahead  of  him,  compre 
hending  not  at  all  that  which  he  beheld? 

Indeed  there  appeared  now  to  the  eye  of  this  young 
man  not  the  white  shores  and  black  crowned  bluffs 
and  distant  islands,  not  the  sweep  of  broad-winged 
birds  circling  near  the  waters,  nor  the  shadow  of  the 
high-poised  eagle  drifting  far  above.  He  felt  not 
the  soft  wind  upon  his  cheek,  nor  noted  the  warmth 
of  the  on-coming  sun.  In  truth,  even  here,  on 
the  very  threshold  of  a  new  world  and  a  new  life, 
he  was  going  back,  pausing  uncertainly  at  the  door 
of  that  life  and  of  that  world  which  he  had  left 
behind.  There  appeared  to  him  not  the  rolling 
undulations  of  the  black-topped  forest,  not  the  toss 
ing  surface  of  the  inland  sea,  nor  the  white-pebbled 
beach  laved  by  its  pulsing  waters.  He  saw  instead 
a  white  and  dusty  road,  lined  by  green  English 
hedge-rows.  Back,  over  there,  beyond  these  rolling 
blue  waves,  back  of  the  long  water  trail  over  which 
he  had  come,  there  were  chapel  and  bell  and  robed 
priest,  and  the  word  which  made  all  fast  forever. 


180 


But  back  of  the  wilderness  mission,  back  of  the 
straggling  settlements  of  Montreal  and  Quebec,  back 
of  the  blue  waters  of  the  ocean,  there,  too,  were 
church  and  minister;  and  there  dwelt  a  woman 
whose  figure  stood  now  before  his  eyes,  part  of  this 
mental  picture  of  the  white  road  lined  with  the 
hedges  of  green. 

A  hand  was  laid  on  his  shoulder,  and  he  half 
started  up  in  sudden  surprise.  Before  him,  the  sun 
shining  through  her  hair,  her  eyes  dark  in  the 
shadow,  stood  Mary  Connynge.  A  fair  woman  in 
deed,  comely,  round  of  form,  soft-eyed,  and  light  of 
touch,  she  might  none  the  less  have  been  a  very  savage 
as  she  stood  there,  clad  no  longer  in  the  dress  of  civ 
ilization,  but  in  the  soft  native  garb  of  skins,  orna 
mented  with  the  stained  quills  of  the  porcupine  and 
the  bizarre  adornments  of  the  native  bead  work; 
in  her  hair  dull  metal  bands,  like  any  Indian  woman, 
upon  her  feet  little  beaded  moccasins — the  very  moc 
casins,  it  might  have  been,  which  Law  first  had  seen 
in  ancient  London  town  and  which  had  played  so 
strange  a  part  in  his  life  since  then. 
I  "You  startled  me,"  said  Law,  simply.  "I  was 
thinking." 

1  A  sudden  jealous  wave  of  woman's  divining  intu 
ition  came  upon  the  woman  at  his  side.  "I  doubt 
not,"  said  she,  bitterly,  "that  I  could  name  the  sub- 


fAU   LARGE  181 

ject  of  your  thought!  Why?  Why  sit  here  and 
dream  of  her,  when  here  am  I,  who  deserve  every 
thing  that  you  can  give  ?" 

She  stood  erect,  her  eyes  flashing,  her  arms  out 
stretched,  her  bosom  panting  under  the  fringed  gar 
ments,  her  voice  ringing  as  it  might  have  been  with 
the  very  essence  of  truth  and  passion.  Law  looked 
at  her  steadily.  But  the  shadow  did  not  lift  from 
his  brow,  though  he  looked  long  and  pondered. 

"Come,"  said  he,  at  length,  gently.  "None  the 
less  we  are  as  we  are.  In  every  game  we  take  our 
chances,  and  in  every  game  we  pay  our  debts.  Let 
us  go  back  to  the  camp." 

As  they  turned  back  down  the  beach  Law  saw 
standing  at  a  little  distance  his  lieutenant,  Du 
Mesne,  who  hesitated  as  though  he  would  speak. 

"What  is  it,  Du  Mesne?"  asked  Law,  excusing 
himself  with  a  gesture  and  joining  the  voyageur 
where  he  stood. 

"Why,  Monsieur  L'as,"  said  Du  Mesne,  "I  am 
making  bold  to  mention  it,  but  in  good  truth  there 
was  some  question  in  my  mind  as  to  what  might 
be  our  plans.  The  spring,  as  you  know,  is  now  well 
advanced.  It  was  your  first  design  to  go  far  into 
the  West,  and  there  to  set  up  your  station  for  the 
trading  in  furs.  Now  there  have  come  these  little 
incidents  which  have  occasioned  us  some  delay. 


182          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

While  I  have  not  doubted  your  enterprise,  Monsieur, 
I  bethought  me  perhaps  it  might  be  within  your 
plans  now  to  go  but  little  farther  on — perhaps,  in 
deed,  to  turn  back — " 

"To  go  back  ?"  said  Law. 

"Well,  yes;  that  is  to  say,  Monsieur  L'as,  back 
again  down  the  Great  Lakes." 

"Have  you  then  known  me  so  ill  as  this,  Du 
Mesne?"  said  Law.  "It  has  not  been  my  custom  to 
set  backward  foot  on  any  sort  of  trail." 

"Oh,  well,  to  be  sure,  Monsieur,  that  I  know  quite 
well,"  replied  Du  Mesne,  apologetically.  "I  would 
only  say  that,  if  you  do  go  forward,  you  will  do 
more  than  most  men  accomplish  on  their  first  voy 
age  au  large  in  the  wilderness.  There  comes  to 
many  a  certain  shrinking  of  the  heart  which  leads 
them  to  find  excuse  for  not  faring  farther  on. 
Yonder,  as  you  know,  Monsieur,  lie  Quebec  and 
Montreal,  somewhat  better  fitted  for  the  abode  of 
monsieur  and  madame  than  the  tents  of  the  wil 
derness.  Back  of  that,  too,  as  we  both  very  well 
know,  Monsieur,  lie  London  and  old  England;  and 
I  had  been  dull  of  eye  indeed  did  I  not  recognize 
the  opportunities  of  a  young  gallant  like  yourself. 
Now,  while  I  know  yourself  to  be  a  man  of  spirit, 
Monsieur  L'as,  and  while  I  should  welcome  you 
gladly  as  a  brother  of  the  trail,  I  had  only  thought 


AU    LAEGE  183 

that  perhaps  you  would  pardon  me  if  I  did  but 
ask  your  purpose  at  this  time." 

Law  bent  his  head  in  silence  for  a  moment. 
"What  know  you  of  this  forward  trail,  Du  Mesne?" 
said  he.  "Have  you  ever  gone  beyond  this  point 
in  your  own  journeyings  ?" 

"Never  beyond  this,"  replied  Du  Mesne,  "and  in 
deed  not  so  far  by  many  hundred  miles.  For  my 
own  part  I  rely  chiefly  upon  the  story  of  my  brother, 
Greysolon  du  L'hut,  the  boldest  soul  that  ever  put 
paddle  in  the  St.  Lawrence.  My  brother  Greysolon, 
by  the  fire  one  night,  told  me  that  some  years  before 
he  had  been  at  the  mouth  of  the  Green  Bay — per 
haps  near  this  very  spot — and  that  here  he  and  his 
brothers  found  a  deserted  Indian  camp.  Near  it, 
lying  half  in  the  fire,  where  he  had  fallen  in  exhaus 
tion,  was  an  old,  a  very  old  Indian,  who  had  been 
abandoned  by  his  tribe  to  die — for  that,  you  must 
know,  Monsieur,  is  one  of  the  pleasant  customs  of 
the  wilderness. 

"Greysolon  and  his  men  revived  this  savage  in  some 
fashion,  and  meantime  had  much  speech  with  him 
about  this  unknown  land  at  whose  edge  we  have 
now  arrived.  The  old  savage  said  that  he  had  been 
many  moons  north  and  west  of  that  place.  He 
knew  of  the  river  called  the  Blue  Earth,  perhaps 
the  same  of  which  Father  Hennepin  has  told.  And 


184          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

also  of  the  Divine  Kiver,  far  below  and  tributary 
to  the  Messasebe.  He  said  that  his  father  was  once 
of  a  war  party  who  went  far  to  the  north  against 
the  Ojibways,  and  that  his  people  took  from  the 
Ojibways  one  of  their  prisoners,  who  said  that  he 
came  from  some  strange  country  far  to  the  west 
ward,  where  there  was  a  very  wide  plain,  of  no 
trees.  Beyond  that  there  were  great  mountains, 
taller  than  any  to  be  found  in  all  this  region  here 
about.  Beyond  these  mountains  the  prisoner  did 
not  know  what  there  might  be,  but  these  mountains 
his  people  took  to  be  the  edge  of  the  world,  beyond 
which  could  live  only  wicked  spirits.  This  was  what 
the  prisoner  of  the  Ojibways  said.  He,  too,  was  an 
old  man. 

"The  captive  of  my  brother  Greysolon  was  an 
Outagamie,  and  he  said  that  the  Outagamies  burned 
this  prisoner  of  the  Ojibways,  for  they  knew  that  he 
was  surely  lying  to  them.  Without  doubt  they  did 
quite  right  to  burn  him,  for  the  notion  of  a  great 
open  country  without  trees  or  streams  is,  of  course, 
absurd  to  any  one  who  knows  America.  And  as  for 
mountains,  all  men  know  that  the  mountains  lie 
to  the  east  of  us,  not  to  the  westward." 

"'Twould  seem  much  hearsay,"  said  Law,  "this 
information  which  comes  at  second,  third  and  fourth 
hand." 


AU   LAEGE  185 

"True/'  said  Du  Mesne,  "but  such  is  the  source 
of  the  little  we  know  of  the  valley  of  the  Messasebe, 
and  that  which  lies  beyond  it.  None  the  less  this 
idea  offers  interest." 

"Yet  you  ask  me  if  I  would  return." 

"'Twas  but  for  yourself,  Monsieur.  It  is  there, 
if  I  may  humbly  confess  to  you,  that  it  is  my  own 
ambition  some  day  to  arrive.  Myself — this  West, 
as  I  said  long  ago  to  the  gentlemen  in  London — 
appeals  to  me,  since  it  is  indeed  a  land  unoccu 
pied,  unowned,  an  empire  which  we  may  have  all 
for  ourselves.  What  say  you,  Monsieur  L'as  ?" 

John  Law  straightened  and  stiffened  as  he  stood. 
For  an  instant  his  eye  flashed  with  the  zeal  of  youth 
and  of  adventure.  It  was  but  a  transient  cloud 
which  crossed  his  face,  yet  there  was  sadness  in  his 
tone  as  he  replied. 

"My  friend,"  said  he,  "you  ask  me  for  my 
answer.  I  have  pondered  and  I  now  decide.  We 
shall  go  on.  We  shall  go  forward.  Let  us  have  this 
West,  my  friend.  Heaven  helping  us,  let  me  find 
somewhere,  in  some  land,  a  place  where  I  may  be 
utterly  lost,  and  where  I  may  forget  P 


THE  PATHWAY  OF  THE  WATERS 

The  news  of  the  intended  departure  was  received 
with  joy  by  the  crew  of  voyageurs,  who,  on  the  warn 
ing  of  an  instant,  fell  forthwith  to  the  simple  tasks 
of  breaking  camp  and  storing  the  accustomed  bales 
and  bundles  in  their  places  in  the  great  canot  du 
Nord. 

"La  voila!"  said  Tete  Gris.  "Here  she  sits,  this 
canoe,  eager  to  go  on.  JTis  forward  again,  mes  amis! 
Forward  once  more;  and  glad  enough  am  I  for  this 
day.  We  shall  see  new  lands  ere  long." 

"For  my  part,"  said  Jean  Brebceuf,  "I  also  am 
most  anxious  to  be  away,  for  I  have  eaten  this  white- 
fish  until  I  crave  no  more.  I  had  bethought  me  how 
excellent  are  the  pumpkins  of  the  good  fathers  at 
the  Straits;  and  indeed  I  would  we  had  with  us 
more  of  that  excellent  fruit,  the  bean." 

"Bah!  Jean  Brebceuf,"  retorted  Pierre  Noir. 
""Pis  but  a  poor-hearted  voyageur  would  hang 
about  a  mission  garden  with  a  hoe  in  his  hand  in- 
(186) 


THE   PATHWAY   OF   THE   WATEKS    187 

stead  of  a  gun.  Perhaps  the  good  sisters  at  the 
Mountain  miss  thy  skill  at  pulling  weeds." 

"Nay,  now,  I  can  live  as  long  on  fish  and  flesh 
as  any  man/'  replied  Jean  Brebceuf,  stoutly,  "nor 
do  I  hold  myself,  Monsieur  Tete  Gris,  one  jot  in 
courage  back  of  any  man  upon  the  trail." 

"Of  course  not,  save  in  time  of  storm,"  grinned 
Tete  Gris.  "Then,  it  is  'Holy  Mary,  witness  my 
vow  of  a  hale  of  beaver  P  It  is — " 

"Well,  so  be  it,"  said  Jean  Brebceuf,  stoutly. 
"  'Tis  sure  a  bale  of  beaver  will  come  easily  enough 
in  these  new  lands;  and — though  I  insist  again 
that  I  have  naught  of  superstition  in  my  soul — 
when  a  raven  sits  on  a  tree  near  camp  and  croaks 
of  a  morning  before  breakfast — as  upon  my  word 
of  honor  was  the  case  this  morning — there  must  be 
some  ill  fate  in  store  for  us,  as  doth  but  stand  to 
reason." 

"But  say  you  so?"  said  Tete  Gris,  pausing  at 
his  task,  with  his  face  assuming  a  certain  serious 
ness. 

"Assuredly,"  said  Jean  Brebceuf.  "  'Tis  as  I  told 
you.  Moreover,  I  insist  to  you,  my  brothers,  that 
the  signs  have  not  been  right  for  this  trip  at  any 
time.  For  myself,  I  look  for  nothing  but  disas 
ter." 

The  humor  of  Jean  Brebceuf  s  very  gravity  ap- 


188          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

pealed  so  strongly  to  his  older  comrades  that  they 
broke  out  into  laughter,  and  so  all  fell  again  to 
their  tasks,  in  sheer  light-heartedness  forgetting 
the  superstitions  of  their  class. 

Thus  at  length  the  party  took  ship  again,  and  in 
time  made  the  head  of  the  great  bay  within  whose 
arms  they  had  been  for  some  time  encamped.  They 
won  up  over  the  sullen  rapids  of  the  river  which 
came  into  the  bay,  toiling  sometimes  waist-deep 
at  the  cordelle,  yet  complaining  not  at  all.  So  in 
time  they  came  out  on  the  wide  expanse  of  the 
shallow  lake  of  the  Winnebagoes,  which  body  of 
water  they  crossed  directly,  coming  into  the  quiet 
channel  of  the  stream  which  fell  in  upon  its  west 
ern  shore.  Up  this  stream  in  turn  steadily  they 
passed,  amid  a  panorama  filled  with  constant  change. 
Sometimes  the  gentle  river  bent  away  in  long  curves, 
with  hardly  a  ripple  upon  its  placid  surface,  save 
where  now  and  again  some  startled  fish  sprang  into 
the  air  in  fright  or  sport,  or  in  the  rush  upon  its 
prey.  Then  the  stream  would  lead  away  into  vast 
seas  of  marsh  lands,  waving  in  illimitable  reaches 
of  rushes,  or  fringed  with  the  unspeakably  beauti 
ful  green  of  the  graceful  wild  rice  plant. 

In  these  wide  levels  now  and  again  the  channel 
divided,  or  lost  itself  in  little  cul  de  sacs,  from  which 
the  paddlers  were  obliged  to  retrace  their  way.  All 


THE    PATHWAY   OF   THE   WATEES    189 

about  them  rose  myriads  of  birds  and  wild  fowl, 
which  made  their  nests  among  these  marshes,  and 
the  babbling  chatter  of  the  rail,  the  high-keyed  call 
ing  of  the  coot,  or  the  clamoring  of  the  home-build 
ing  mallard  assailed  their  ears  hour  after  hour  as 
they  passed  on  between  the  leafy  shores.  Then, 
again,  the  channel  would  sweep  to  one  side  of  the 
marsh,  and  give  view  to  wide  vistas  of  high  and 
rolling  lands,  dotted  with  groves  of  hardwood,  with 
here  and  there  a  swamp  of  cedar  or  of  tamarack. 
Little  herds  of  elk  and  droves  of  deer  fed  on  the 
grass-covered  slopes,  as  fat,  as  sleek  and  fearless  of 
mankind  as  though  they  dwelt  domesticated  in  some 
noble  park. 

It  was  a  land  obviously  but  little  known,  even  to 
the  most  adventurous,  and  as  chance  would  have  it, 
they  met  not  even  a  wandering  party  of  the  native 
tribes.  Clearly  now  the  little  boat  was  climbing, 
climbing  slowly  and  gently,  yet  surely,  upward  from 
the  level  of  the  great  Lake  Michiganon.  In  time  the 
little  river  broadened  and  flattened  out  into  wide, 
shallow  expanses,  the  waters  known  as  the  Lakes  of 
the  Foxes ;  and  beyond  that  it  became  yet  more  shal 
low  and  uncertain,  winding  among  quaking  bogs  and 
unknown  marshes;  yet  still,  whether  by  patience,  or 
by  cheerfulness,  or  by  determination,  the  craft  stood 
on  and  on,  and  so  reached  that  end  of  the  waterway 


190          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

which,  in  the  opinion  of  the  more  experienced  Du 
Mesne,  must  surely  be  the  place  known  among  the 
Indian  tribes  as  the  "Place  for  the  carrying  of 
boats." 

Here  they  paused  for  a  few  days,  at  that  mild 
summit  of  land  which  marks  the  portage  between 
the  east  bound  and  the  west  bound  waters ;  yet,  im 
pelled  ever  by  the  eager  spirit  of  the  adventurer, 
they  made  their  pause  but  short.  In  time  they 
launched  their  craft  on  the  bright,  smooth  flood 
of  the  river  of  the  Ouisconsins,  stained  coppery-red 
by  its  far-off,  unknown  course  in  the  north,  where 
it  had  bathed  leagues  of  the  roots  of  pine  and  tam 
arack  and  ceda'A  They  passed  on  steadily  west 
ward,  hour  after  hour,  with  the  current  of  this  great 
stream,  among  little  islands  covered  with  timber; 
passed  along  bars  of  white  sand  and  flats  of  hard 
wood;  beyond  forest-covered  knolls,  in  the  openings 
of  which  one  might  now  and  again  see  great  vistas 
of  a  scenery  now  peaceful  and  now  bold,  with  tur- 
reted  knolls  and  sweeping  swards  of  green,  as  though 
some  noble  house  of  old  England  were  set  back 
secluded  within  these  wide  and  well-kept  grounds. 
The  country  now  rapidly  lost  its  marshy  character, 
and  as  they  approached  the  mouth  of  the  great 
stream,  it  being  now  well  toward  the  middle  of  the 


THE    PATHWAY   OF   THE   WATEES    191 

summer,  they  reached,  suddenly  and  without  fore 
warning,  that  which  they  long  had  sought. 

The  sturdy  paddlers  were  bending  to  their  tasks, 
each  broad  back  swinging  in  unison  forward  and  back 
over  the  thwart,  each  brown  throat  bared  to  the  air, 
each  swart  head  uncovered  to  the  glare  of  the  mid 
day  sun,  each  narrow-bladed  paddle  keeping  unison 
with  those  before  and  behind,  the  hand  of  the  pad- 
dler  never  reaching  higher  than  his  chin,  since  each 
had  learned  the  labor-saving  fashion  of  the  Indian 
canoeman.  The  day  was  bright  and  cheery,  the  air 
not  too  ardent,  and  across  the  coppery  waters  there 
stretched  slants  of  shadow  from  the  embowering 
forest  trees.  They  were  alone,  these  travelers;  yet 
for  the  time  at  least  part  of  them  seemed  care-free 
and  quite  abandoned  to  the  sheer  zest  of  life.  There 
arose  again,  after  the  fashion  of  the  voyageurs,  the 
measure  of  the  paddling  song,  without  which  in 
deed  the  paddler  had  not  been  able  to  perform 
his  labor  at  the  thwart. 

"Dans  mon  chemin  j'ai  rencontre — " 

chanted  the  leader ;  and  voices  behind  him  responded 
lustily  with  the  next  line : 

"Trois  cavaliers  bien  monies — " 
"Trois  cavaliers  ~bien  monies — " 

chanted  the  leader  again. 


192          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

"L'un  a  cheval  et  I'autre  a  pied — " 
came  the  response ;  and  then  the  chorus : 

"Lou,  Ion  laridon  daine — 
Lon,  Ion  laridon  dai!" 

The  great  boat  began  to  move  ahead  steadily  and 
more  swiftly,  and  bend  after  bend  of  the  river  was 
rounded  by  the  rushing  prow.  None  knew  this  coun 
try,  nor  wist  how  far  the  journey  might  carry  him. 
None  knew  as  of  certainty  that  he  would  ever  in 
this  way  reach  the  great  Messasebe;  or  even  if  he 
thought  that  such  would  be  the  case,  did  any  one 
know  how  far  that  Messasebe  still  might  be.  Yet 
there  came  a  time  in  the  afternoon  of  that  day,  even 
as  the  chant  of  the  voyageurs  still  echoed  on  the 
wooded  bluffs,  and  even  as  the  great  birch-bark  ship 
still  responded  swiftly  to  their  gaiety,  when,  on  a 
sudden  turn  in  the  arm  of  the  river,  there  appeared 
wide  before  them  a  scene  for  which  they  had  not 
been  prepared.  There,  rippling  and  rolling  under 
the  breeze,  as  though  itself  the  arm  of  some  great 
sea,  they  saw  a  majestic  flood,  whose  real  nature 
and  whose  name  each  man  there  knew  on  the  instant 
and  instinctively. 

"Messasebe!  Messasebe!"  broke  out  the  voices 
of  the  paddlers. 

"Stop  the  paddles !"  cried  Du  Mesne.     "Voila!" 


THE    PATHWAY    OF    THE    WATERS    193 

John  Law  rose  in  the  bow  of  the  boat  and  un 
covered  his  head.  It  was  a  noble  prospect  which 
lay  before  him.  His  was  the  soul  of  the  adventurer, 
quick  to  respond  to  challenge.  There  was  a  flutter 
ing  in  his  throat  as  he  stood  and  gazed  out  upon 
this  solemn,  mysterious  and  tremendous  flood,  com 
ing  whence,  going  whither,  none  might  say.  He 
gazed  and  gazed,  and  it  was  long  before  the  shadow 
crossed  his  face  and  before  he  drew  a  sigh. 

"Madam,"  said  he,  at  length,  turning  until  he 
faced  Mary  Connynge,  "this  is  the  West.  We  have 
chosen,  and  we  have  arrived !" 


MESSASEBE 

The  boat,  now  lacking  its  propelling  power,  drifted 
on  and  out  into  the  clear  tide  of  the  mighty  stream. 
The  paddlers  were  idle,  and  silence  had  fallen  upon 
all.  The  rush  of  this  majestic  flood,  steady,  mys 
terious,  secret-keeping,  created  a  feeling  of  awe  and 
wonder.  They  gazed  and  gazed  again,  up  the  great 
waterway,  across  to  its  farther  shore,  along  its  roll 
ing  course  below,  and  still  each  man  forgot  his 
paddle,  and  still  the  little  ship  of  New  France 
drifted  on,  just  rocking  gently  in  the  mimic  waves 
which  ruffled  the  face  of  the  mighty  Father  of 
the  Waters. 

"By  our  Lady!"  cried  Du  Mesne,  at  length,  and 
tears  stood  in  his  tan-framed  eyes  as  he  turned, 
"  'tis  true,  all  that  has  been  said !  Here  it  is,  Mes- 
sasebe,  more  mighty  than  any  story  could  have  told ! 
Monsieur  L'as,  'tis  big  enough  to  carry  ships/' 

"  'Twill  carry  fleets  of  them  one  day,  Du  Mesne," 
replied  John  Law.  "  'Tis  a  roadway  fit  for  a  nation. 
(194) 


MESSASEBE  195 

Ah,  Du  Mesne !  our  St.  Lawrence,  our  New  France — 
they  dwindle  when  compared  to  this  new  land." 

"Aye!  and  'tis  all  our  own!"  cried  Du  Mesne. 
"Look;  for  the  last  ten  days  we  have  scarce  seen 
even  the  smoke  of  a  wigwam,  and,  so  far  as  I  can 
tell,  there  is  not  in  all  this  valley  now  the  home  of 
a  single  white  man.  My  friend  Du  L'hut — he  may 
be  far  north  of  the  Superior  to-day  for  aught  we 
know,  or  somewhere  among  the  Sauteur  people. 
If  there  be  any  man  below  us,  let  some  one  else  tell 
who  that  may  be.  Sir,  I  promise  you,  when  I  see 
this  big  water  going  on  so  fast  and  heading  so  far 
away  from  home — well,  I  admit  it  causes  me  to 
shiver !" 

"  "Pis  much  the  same,"  said  Law,  "where  home 
may  be  for  me." 

"Ah,  but  'tis  different  on  the  Lakes,"  said  Du 
Mesne,  "for  there  we  always  knew  the  way  back, 
and  knew  that  'twas  down  stream." 

"He  says  well,"  broke  in  Mary  Connynge. 
"There  is  something  in  this  big  river  that  chills 
me.  I  am  afraid." 

"And  what  say  you,  Tete  Gris,  and  you,  Pierre 
Noil  ?"  asked  Law. 

"Why,  myself,"  replied  the  former,  "I  am  with  the 
captain.  It  matters  not.  There  must  always  be 
one  trail  from  which  one  does  not  return." 


196          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

"Oui"  said  Pierre  Noir.  "To  be  sure,  we  have 
passed  as  good  beaver  country  as  heart  of  man  could 
ask ;  but  never  was  land  so  good  but  there  was  better 
just  beyond." 

"They  say  well,  Du  Mesne,"  spoke  John  Law, 
presently;  "'tis  better  on  beyond.  Suppose  we 
never  do  return  ?  Did  I  not  say  to  you  that  I  would 
leave  this  other  world  as  far  behind  me  as  might 
be?" 

"Eh  'bion,  Monsieur  L'as,  you  reply  with  spirit, 
as  ever,"  replied  Du  Mesne,  "and  it  is  not  for  me 
to  stand  in  the  way.  My  own  fortune  and  family 
are  also  with  me,  and  home  is  where  my  fire  is  lit." 

"Very  well,"  replied  Law.  "Let  us  run  the  river 
to  its  mouth,  if  need  be.  'Tis  all  one  to  me.  And 
whether  we  get  back  or  not,  'tis  another  tale." 

"Oh,  I  make  no  doubt  we  shall  win  back  if  need 
be,"  replied  Du  Mesne.  "'Tis  said  the  savages 
know  the  ways  by  the  Divine  Eiver  of  the  Illini  to 
the  foot  of  Michiganon;  and  that,  perhaps,  might 
be  our  best  way  back  to  the  Lakes  and  to  the  Moun 
tain  with  our  beaver.  We  shall,  provided  we  reach 
the  Divine  River,  as  I  should  guess  by  the  stories 
I  have  heard,  be  then  below  the  Illini,  the  Ottawas 
and  the  Miamis,  with  I  know  not  what  tribes  from 
west  of  the  Messasebe.  'Tis  for  you  to  say,  Monsieur 
L'as,  but  for  my  own  part — and  'tis  but  a  hazard  at 


MESSASEBE  197 

best — I  would  say  remain  here,  or  press  on  to  the 
river  of  the  Illini." 

"'Tis  easy  of  decision,  then/'  replied  Law,  after 
a  moment  of  reflection.  "We  take  that  course 
which  leads  us  farther  on  at  least.  Again  the  pad 
dles,  my  friends !  To-night  we  sup  in  our  own  king 
dom.  Strike  up  the  song,  Du  Mesne  I" 

A  shout  of  approval  broke  from  the  hardy  men 
along  the  boat  side,  and  even  Jean  Brebceuf  tossed 
up  his  cap  upon  his  paddle  shaft. 

"Forward,  then,  mes  amis!"  cried  Du  Mesne,  set 
ting  his  own  paddle-blade  deep  into  the  flood.  "En 
roulant  ma  ~boule,  roulant — " 

Again  the  chorus  rose,  and  again  the  hardy  craft 
leaped  onward  into  the  unexplored. 

Day  after  day  following  this  the  journey  was  re 
sumed,  and  day  after  day  the  travelers  with  eager 
eyes  witnessed  a  prospect  of  continual  change.  The 
bluffs,  bolder  and  more  gigantic,  towered  more  pre 
cipitous  than  the  banks  of  the  gentler  streams  which 
they  had  left  behind.  Forests  ranged  down  to  the 
shores,  and  wide,  green-decked  islands  crept  into 
view,  and  little  timbered  valleys  of  lesser  streams 
came  marching  down  to  the  imposing  flood  of  Mes- 
sasebe.  Again  the  serrated  bluffs  broke  back  and 
showed  vast  vistas  of  green  savannas,  covered  with 
tall,  waving  grasses,  broken  by  little  rolling  hills, 


198          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

over  which  crossed  herds  of  elk,  and  buffalo,  and 
deer. 

"'Tis  a  land  of  plenty,"  said  Du  Mesne  one  day, 
breaking  the  habitual  silence  into  which  the  party 
had  fallen.  "'Tis  a  great  land,  and  a  mighty. 
And  now,  Monsieur,  I  know  why  the  Indians  say 
'tis  guarded  by  spirits.  Sure,  I  can  myself  feel 
something  in  the  air  which  makes  my  shoulder- 
blades  to  creep/' 

"'Tis  a  mighty  land,  and  full  of  wonders,"  as 
sented  Law,  who,  in  different  fashion,  had  felt  the 
same  mysterious  spell  of  this  great  stream.  For 
himself,  he  was  nearer  to  reverence  than  ever  yet 
he  had  been  in  all  his  wild  young  life. 

Now  so  it  happened  that  at  length,  after  a  long 
though  rapid  journey  down  the  great  river,  they 
came  to  that  stream  which  they  took  to  be  the  river 
of  the  Illini.  This  they  ascended,  and  so  finally, 
early  in  one  evening,  at  the  bank  of  a  wide  and 
placid  bayou,  shaded  by  willows  and  birch  trees, 
and  by  great  elms  that  bore  aloft  a  canopy  of  cling 
ing  vines,  they  made  a  landing  for  the  bivouac 
which  was  to  prove  their  final  tarrying  place.  The 
great  canot  du  Nord  came  to  rest  at  the  foot  of  a 
timbered  hill,  back  of  which  stretched  high,  rolling 
prairies,  dotted  with  little  groves  and  broken  with 
wide  swales  and  winding  sloughs.  The  leaders  of 


MESSASEBE  199 

the  party,  with  Tete  Gris  and  Pierre  Noir,  ascended 
the  bluffs  and  made  brief  exploration;  not  more, 
as  was  tacitly  understood,  with  view  to  choosing 
the  spot  for  the  evening  encampment  than  with  the 
purpose  of  selecting  a  permanent  stopping  place. 
Du  Mesne  at  length  turned  to  Law  with  questioning 
gaze.  John  Law  struck  the  earth  with  his  heel. 

"Here !"  said  he.  "Here  let  us  stop.  'Tis  as  well 
as  any  place.  There  are  flowers  and  trees,  and 
meadows  and  hedges,  like  to  those  of  England. 
Here  let  us  stay  I" 

"Ah,  you  say  well  indeed  I"  cried  Du  Mesne,  "and 
may  fortune  send  us  happy  enterprises." 

"But  then,  for  the  houses/'  continued  Law.  "I 
presume  we  must  keep  close  to  this  little  stream 
which  flows  from  the  bluff.  And  yet  we  must  have 
a  place  whence  we  can  obtain  good  view.  Then,  with 
stout  walls  to  protect  us,  we  might — but  see !  What 
is  that  beyond  ?  Look !  There  is,  if  I  mistake  not, 
a  house  already  builded !" 

"'Tis  true,  as  I  live!"  cried  Du  Mesne,  lower 
ing  his  voice  instinctively,  as  his  quick  eye  caught 
the  spot  where  Law  was  pointing.  "But,  good  God ! 
what  can  it  mean  ?" 

They  advanced  cautiously  into  the  little  open 
space  beyond  them,  a  glade  but  a  few  hundred  yards 
across  and  lined  by  encircling  trees.  They  saw 


200          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

indeed  a  habitation  erected  by  human  hands,  ap 
parently  not  altogether  withoiit  skill.  There  were 
rude  walls  of  logs,  reinforced  by  stakes  planted  in 
the  ground.  From  the  four  corners  of  the  in- 
closure  projected  overhanging  beams.  There  was 
an  opening  in  the  inclosure,  as  they  discovered  upon 
closer  approach,  and  entering  at  this  rude  door,  the 
party  looked  about  them  curiously. 

Du  Mesne  shut  his  lips  tight  together.  This  was 
no  house  built  by  the  hands  of  white  men.  There 
were  here  no  quarters,  no  shops,  no  chapel  with  its 
little  bell.  Instead  there  stood  a  few  dried  and 
twisted  poles,  and  all  around  lay  the  litter  of  an 
abandoned  camp. 

"Iroquois,  by  the  living  Mother  of  God!"  cried 
Pierre  Noir. 

"Look!"  cried  Tete  Gris,  calling  them  again  out 
side  the  inclosure.  He  stood  kicking  in  the  ashes  of 
what  had  been  a  fire-place.  He  disclosed,  half  buried 
in  the  charred  embers,  an  iron  kettle  into  which 
he  gazed  curiously.  He  turned  away  as  John  Law 
stepped  up  beside  him. 

"There  must  have  been  game  here  in  plenty," 
said  Law.  "There  are  bones  scattered  all  about." 

Du  Mesne  and  Tete  Gris  looked  at  each  other 
in  silence,  and  the  former  at  length  replied: 

"This  is  an  Iroquois  war  house,  Monsieur  L'as," 


MESSASEBE  201 

said  he.  "They  lived  here  for  more  than  a  month, 
and,  as  you  say,  they  fed  well.  But  these  bones 
you  see  are  not  the  bones  of  elk  or  deer.  They  are 
the  bones  of  men,  and  women,  and  children.'* 

Law  stood  taking  in  each  detail  of  the  scene 
about  him. 

"Now  you  have  seen  what  is  before  us,"  resumed 
Du  Mesne.  "The  Iroquois  have  gone,  'tis  true. 
They  have  wiped  out  the  villages  which  were  here. 
There  are  the  little  cornfields,  but  I  warrant  you 
they  have  not  seen  a  tomahawk  hoe  for  a  month 
or  more.  The  Iroquois  have  gone,  yet  the  fact 
that  they  have  been  here  proves  they  may  come 
again.  What  say  you,  Tete  Gris;  and  what  is  your 
belief,  Pierre?" 

Tete  Gris  remained  silent  for  some  moments. 
"  'Tis  as  Monsieur  says,"  replied  he  at  length.  "  'Tis 
all  one  to  me.  I  go  or  stay,  as  it  shall  please  the 
others.  There  is  always  the  one  trail  over  which 
one  does  not  return." 

"And  you,  Pierre  ?" 

"I  stay  by  my  friends,"  replied  Pierre  Noir, 
briefly. 

"And  you,  Monsieur  L'as?"  asked  Du  Mesne. 

Law  raised  his  head  with  the  old-time  determina 
tion.  "My  friends,"  said  he,  "we  have  elected  to 
come  into  this  country  and  take  its  conditions  as  we 


202          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

find  them.  If  we  falter,  we  lose;  of  that  we  may 
rest  assured.  Let  us  not  turn  back  because  a  few 
savages  have  been  here  and  have  slaughtered  a  few 
other  savages.  For  me,  there  seems  but  one  opinion 
possible.  The  lightning  has  struck,  yet  it  may  not 
strike  again  at  the  same  tree.  The  Iroquois  have 
been  here,  but  they  have  departed,  and  they  have 
left  nothing  to  invite  their  return.  Now,  it  is  neces 
sary  that  we  make  a  pause  and  build  some  place 
for  our  abode.  Here  is  a  post  already  half  builded 
to  our  hands." 

"But  if  the  savages  return  ?"  said  Du  Mesne. 

"Then  we  will  fight,"  said  John  Law. 

"And  right  you  are,"  replied  Du  Mesne.  "Your 
reasoning  is  correct.  I  vote  that  we  build  here  our 
station." 

"Myself  also,"  said  Tete  Gris.  And  Pierre  Noir 
nodded  his  assent  in  silence. 


CHAPTEE  VI 

MAIZE 

"Ola!  Jean  Brebceuf,"  called  out  Du  Mesne  to 
that  worthy,  who  presently  appeared,  breathing  hard 
from  his  climb  tip  the  river  bluff.  "Know  you  what 
has  been  concluded?" 

"No;  how  should  I  guess?"  replied  Jean  Bre- 
bceuf.  "Or,  at  least,  if  I  should  guess,  what  else 
should  I  guess  save  that  we  are  to  take  boat  at  once 
and  set  back  to  Montreal  as  fast  as  we  may?  But 
that — what  is  this?  Whose  house  is  that  yon 
der?" 

"'Tis  our  own,  mon  enfant"  replied  Du  Mesne, 
dryly.  "'Twas  perhaps  the  property  of  the  Iro- 
quois  a  moon  ago.  A  moon  before  that  time  the 
soil  it  stands  on  belonged  to  the  Illini.  To-day 
both  house  and  soil  belong  to  us.  See;  here  stood 
the  village.  There  are  the  cornfields,  cut  and 
trampled  by  the  Iroquois.  Here  are  the  kettles  of 
the  natives — " 

"But,  but — why — what  is  all  this?    Why  do  we 
not  hasten  away?"  broke  in  Jean  Brebceuf. 
(203) 


204          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

"Pish!  We  do  not  go  away.  We  remain  where 
we  are." 

"Kemain?  Stay  here,  and  be  eaten  by  the  Iro- 
quois?  Nay!  not  Jean  Breboeuf." 

Du  Mesne  smiled  broadly  at  his  terrors,  and  a 
dry  grin  even  broke  over  the  features  of  the  im 
passive  old  trapper,  Tete  Gris. 

"Not  so  fast  with  your  going  away,  Jean,  my 
brother,"  said  Du  Mesne.  "Thou'rt  ever  hinting  of 
corn  and  the  bean;  now  see  what  can  be  done  in 
this  garden-place  of  the  Iroquois  and  the  Illini. 
You  are  appointed  head  gardener  for  the  post!" 

"Messieurs,  me  voila"  said  Jean  Breboeuf,  drop 
ping  his  hands  in  despair.  "Were  I  not  the  bravest 
man  in  all  New  France  I  should  leave  you  at  this 
moment.  It  is  mad,  quite  mad  you  are,  every  one 
of  you!  I,  Jean  Breboeuf,  will  remain,  and,  if 
necessary,  will  protect.  Corn,  and  perhaps  the  bean, 
ye  shall  have;  perhaps  even  some  of  those  little 
roots  that  the  savages  dig  and  eat;  but,  look  you, 
this  is  but  because  you  are  with  one  who  is  brave. 
En-fin,  I  go.  I  bend  me  to  the  hoe,  here  in  this 
place,  like  any  peasant." 

"An  excellent  hoe  can  be  made  from  the  blade 
bone  of  an  elk,  as  the  woman  Wabana  will  perhaps 
show  you  if  you  like,"  said  Pierre  Noir,  derisively, 
to  his  comrade  of  the  paddle. 


MAIZE  205 

"Even  so,"  said  Jean  Brebceuf.  "I  make  me  the 
hoe.  Could  I  have  but  thee,  old  Pierre,  to  sit  on  a 
stump  and  fright  the  crows  away,  I  make  no  doubt 
that  all  would  go  well  with  our  husbandry.  I  had 
as  lief  go  censitaire  for  Monsieur  L'as  as  for  any 
seignieur  on  the  Kichelieu;  of  that  be  sure,  old 
Pierre." 

"Faith,"  replied  the  latter,  "when  it  comes  to 
frightening  crows,  I'll  even  agree  to  sit  on  a  stump 
with  my  musket  across  my  knees  and  watch  you 
work.  'Tis  a  good  place  for  a  sentinel — to  keep 
the  crows  from  picking  yet  more  bones  than  these 
which  will  embarrass  you  in  your  hoeing,  Jean 
Breboeuf." 

"He  says  the  Eichelieu,  Du  Mesne,"  broke  in 
John  Law,  musingly.  "Very  far  away  it  sounds. 
I  wonder  if  we  shall  ever  see  it  again,  with  its  lit 
tle  narrow  farms.  But  here  we  have  our  own  trails 
and  our  own  lands,  and  let  us  hope  that  Monsieur 
Jean  shall  prosper  in  his  belated  farming.  And 
now,  for  the  rest  of  us,  we  must  look  presently  to 
the  building  of  our  houses." 

Thus  began,  slowly  and  in  primitive  fashion, 
the  building  of  one  of  the  first  cities  of  the 
vast  valley  of  the  Messasebe;  the  seeds  of  civiliza 
tion  taking  hold  upon  the  ground  of  barbarism, 
the  one  supplanting  the  other,  yet  availing  itself  of 


206          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

that  other.  As  the  white  men  took  over  the  crude 
fields  of  the  departed  savages,  so  also  they  appro 
priated  the  imperfect  edifice  which  the  conquerors  of 
those  savages  had  left  for  them.  It  was  in  little  the 
story  of  old  England  herself,  builded  upon  the  races 
and  the  ruins  of  Briton,  and  Roman,  and  Saxon, 
of  Dane  and  Norman. 

Under  the  direction  of  Law,  the  walls  of  the 
old  war  house  were  strengthened  with  an  inner  row 
of  palisades,  supporting  an  embankment  of  earth 
and  stone.  The  overlap  of  the  gate  was  extended 
into  a  re-entrant  angle,  and  rude  battlements  were 
erected  at  the  four  corners  of  the  inclosure.  The 
little  stream  of  unfailing  water  was  led  through 
a  corner  of  the  fortress.  In  the  center  of  the  in 
closure  they  built  the  houses;  a  cabin  for  Law,  one 
for  the  men,  and  a  larger  one  to  serve  as  store 
room  and  as  trading  place,  should  there  be  opportu 
nity  for  trade. 

It  was  in  these  rude  quarters  that  Law  and  his 
companion  established  that  which  was  the  nearest 
approach  to  a  home  that  either  for  the  time  might 
claim;  and  it  was  thus  that  both  undertook  once 
more  that  old  and  bootless  human  experiment  of 
seeking  to  escape  from  one's  own  self.  Silent  now, 
and  dutifully  obedient  enough  was  this  erstwhile 
English  beauty,  Mary  Connynge ;  yet  often  and  often 


MAIZE  207 

Law  caught  the  question  of  her  gaze.  And  often 
enough,  too,  he  found  his  own  questioning  running 
back  up  the  water  trails,  and  down  the  lakes  and 
across  the  wide  ocean,  in  a  demand  which,  fiercer 
and  fiercer  as  it  grew,  he  yet  remained  too  bitter 
and  too  proud  to  put  to  the  proof  by  any  means  now 
within  his  power.  Strange  enough,  savage  enough, 
hopeless  enough,  was  this  wild  home  of  his  in  the 
wilderness  of  the  Messasebe. 

The  smoke  of  the  new  settlement  rose  steadily 
day  by  day,  but  it  gave  signal  for  no  watching 
enemy.  All  about  stretched  the  pale  green  ocean 
of  the  grasses,  dotted  by  many  wild  flowers,  nodding 
and  bowing  like  bits  of  fragile  flotsam  on  the  sur 
face  of  a  continually  rolling  sea.  The  little  groves 
of  timber,  scattered  here  and  there,  sheltered  from 
the  summer  sun  the  wild  cattle  of  the  plains. 
The  shorter  grasses  hid  the  coveys  of  the  prairie 
hens,  and  on  the  marsh-grown  bayou  banks  the 
wild  duck  led  her  brood.  A  great  land,  a  rich,  a 
fruitful  one,  was  this  that  lay  about  these  adven 
turers. 

A  soberness  had  come  over  the  habit  of  the  mas 
ter  mind  of  this  little  colony.  His  hand  took  up 
the  ax,  and  forgot  the  sword  and  gun.  Day  after 
day  he  stood  looking  about  him,  examining  and 
studying  in  little  all  the  strange  things  which  he 


208          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

saw;  seeking  to  learn  as  much  as  might  be  of  the 
timorous  savages,  who  in  time  began  to  straggle 
back  to  their  ruined  villages;  talking,  as.  best  he 
might,  through  such  interpreting  as  was  possible, 
with  savages  who  came  from  the  west  of  the  Mes- 
sasebe,  and  from  the  South  and  from  the  far  South 
west;  hearing,  and  learning  and  wondering  of  a 
land  which  seemed  as  large  as  all  the  earth,  and 
various  as  all  the  lands  that  lay  beneath  the  sun 
— that  West,  so  glorious,  so  new,  so  boundless,  which 
was  yet  to  be  the  home  of  countless  hearth-fires 
and  the  sites  of  myriad  fields  of  corn.  Let  others 
hunt,  and  fish,  and  rob  the  Indians  of  their  furs, 
after  the  accepted  fashion  of  the  time;  as  for  John 
Law,  he  must  look  about  him,  and  think,  and  watch 
this  growing  of  the  corn. 

He  saw  it  fairly  from  its  beginning,  this  growth 
of  the  maize,  this  plant  which  never  yet  had  grown 
on  Scotch  or  English  soil ;  this  tall,  beautiful,  broad- 
bladed,  tender  tree,  the  very  emblem  of  all  fruit- 
fulness.  He  saw  here  and  there,  dropped  by  the 
careless  hand  of  some  departed  Indian  woman,  the 
little  germinating  seeds,  just  thrusting  their  pale- 
green  heads  up  through  the  soil,  half  broken  by  the 
tomahawk.  He  saw  the  clustering  green  shoots — 
numerous,  in  the  sign  of  plenty — all  crowding  to 
gether  and  clamoring  for  light,  and  life,  and  air, 


MAIZE  209 

and  room.  He  saw  the  prevailing  of  the  tall  and 
strong  ttpthrusting  stalks,  after  the  way  of  life; 
saw  the  others  dwarf  and  whiten,  and  yet  cling  on 
at  the  base  of  the  bolder  stem,  parasites,  worthless, 
yet  existing,  after  the  way  of  life.  .  , 

He  saw  the  great  central  stalks  spring  boldly  up,  so 
swiftly  that  it  almost  seemed  possible  to  count  the 
successive  leaps  of  progress.  He  saw  the  strong- 
ribbed  leaves  thrown  out,  waving  a  thousand  hands 
of  cheerful  welcome  and  assurance — these  blades  of 
the  corn,  so  much  mightier  than  any  blades  of  steel. 
He  saw  the  broad  beckoning  banners  of  the  pale  tas 
sels  bursting  out  atop  of  the  stalk,  token  of  fecundity 
and  of  the  future.  He  caught  the  wide-driven  pollen 
as  it  whitened  upon  the  earth,  borne  by  the  parent 
West  Wind,  mother  of  increase.  He  saw  the  thicken 
ing  of  the  green  leaf  at  the  base,  its  swelling,  its 
growth  and  expansion,  till  the  indefinite  enlarge 
ment  showed  at  length  the  incipient  ear. 

He  noted  the  faint  brown  of  the  ends  of  the 
sweetly-enveloping  silk  of  the  ear,  pale-green  and 
soft  underneath  the  sheltering  and  protecting  husk. 
He  found  the  sweet  and  milk-white  tender  kernels, 
row  upon  row,  forming  rapidly  beneath  the  husk, 
and  saw  at  length  the  hardening  and  darkening  of 
the  husk  at  its  free  end,  which  told  that  man  might 
pluck  and  eat. 


210          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

And  then  he  saw  the  fading  of  the  tassels,  the  dark 
ening  of  the  silk  and  the  crinkling  of  the  blades; 
and  there,  borne  on  the  strong  parent  stem,  he 
noted  now  the  many  full-rowed  ears,  protected  by 
their  husks  and  heralded  by  the  tassels  and  the 
blades.  "Come,  come  ye,  all  ye  people!  Enter  in, 
for  I  will  feed  ye  all!"  This  was  the  song  of  the 
maize,  its  invitation,  its  counsel,  its  promise. 

Under  the  warped  lodge  frames  which  the  fires 
of  the  Iroquois  had  spared,  there  were  yet  visible 
clusters  of  the  ears  of  last  year's  corn.  Here,  under 
his  own  eye,  were  growing  yet  other  ears,  ripe  for 
the  harvesting  and  ripe  for  the  coming  growth. 
A  strange  spell  fell  upon  the  soul  of  Law.  Visions 
crossed  his  mind,  born  in  the  soft  warm  air  of  these 
fecundating  winds,  of  this  strange  yet  peaceful 
scene. 

At  times  he  stood  and  looked  out  from  the  door 
of  the  palisade,  when  the  prairie  mists  were  rising 
in  the  morning  at  the  mandate  of  the  sun,  and 
to  his  eyes  these  waving  seas  of  grasses  all  seemed 
beckoning  fields  of  corn.  These  smokes,  coming 
from  the  broken  tepees  of  the  timid  tribesmen,  surely 
they  arose  from  the  roofs  of  happy  and  contented 
homes!  These  wreaths  and  wraiths  of  the  twisting 
and  wide-stalking  mists,  surely  these  were  the  cap 
tains  of  a  general  husbandry !  Ah,  John  Law,  John 


MAIZE  211 

Law!  Had  God  given  thee  the  right  feeling  and 
contented  heart,  happy  indeed  had  been  these  days 
in  this  new  land  of  thine  own,  far  from  ignoble 
strivings  and  from  fevered  dreams,  far  from  aim 
less  struggles  and  unregulated  avarice,  far  from 
oppression  and  from  misery,  far  from  bickerings, 
heart-burnings  and  envyings !  Ah,  John  Law !  Had 
God  but  given  thee  the  pure  and  well-contented 
heart !  For  here  in  the  Messasebe,  that  Mind  which 
made  the  universe  and  set  man  to  be  one  of  its  little 
inhabitants — surely  that  Mind  had  planned  that  man 
should  come  and  grow  in  this  place,  tall  and  strong, 
and  fruitful,  useful  to  all  the  world,  even  as  this 
swift,  strong  growing  of  the  maize. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE    BRINK    OF    CHANGE 

The  breath  of  autumn  came  into  the  air.  The 
little  flowers  which  had  dotted  the  grassy  robe  of  the 
rolling  hills  had  long  since  faded  away  under  the 
ardent  sun,  and  now  there  appeared  only  the  de 
nuded  stalks  of  the  mulleins  and  the  flaunting  ban 
ners  of  the  goldenrod.  The  wild  grouse  shrank 
from  the  edges  of  the  little  fields  and  joined  their 
numbers  into  general  bands,  which  night  and  morn 
crossed  the  country  on  sustained  and  strong-winged 
flight.  The  plumage  of  the  young  wild  turkeys, 
stalking  in  droves  among  the  open  groves,  began 
to  emulate  the  iridescent  splendors  of  their  elders. 
The  marshes  above  the  village  became  the  home  of 
yet  more  numerous  thousands  of  clamoring  wild 
fowl,  and  high  up  against  the  blue  there  passed, 
on  the  south-bound  journey,  the  harrow  of  the  wild 
geese,  wending  their  way  from  North  to  South 
across  an  unknown  empire. 

A  chill  came  into  the  waters  of  the  river,  so  that 
the  bass  and  pike  sought  out  the  deeper  pools.  The 
(212) 


THE    BEINK    OF    CHANGE  213 

squirrels  busily  hoarded  up  supplies  of  the  nuts  now 
ripening.  The  antlers  of  the  deer  and  the  elk  which 
emerged  from  the  concealing  thickets  now  showed 
no  longer  ragged  strips  of  velvet,  and  their  tips  were 
polished  in  the  preliminary  fitting  for  the  fall  season 
of  love  and  combat.  There  came  nights  when  the 
white  frost  hung  heavy  upon  all  the  bending  grasses 
and  the  broad-leafed  plants,  a  frost  which  seared  the 
maize  leaves  and  set  aflame  the  foliage  of  the 
maples  all  along  the  streams,  and  decked  in  a  hun 
dred  flamboyant  tones  the  leaves  of  the  sumach 
and  all  the  climbing  vines. 

As  all  things  now  presaged  the  coming  winter, 
so  there  approached  also  the  time  when  the  little 
party,  so  long  companions  upon  the  Western  trails, 
must  for  the  first  time  know  division.  Du  Mesne, 
making  ready  for  the  return  trip  over  the  unknown 
waterways  back  to  the  Lakes,  as  had  been  deter 
mined  to  be  necessary,  spoke  of  it  as  though  the 
journey  were  but  an  affair  of  every  day. 

"Make  no  doubt,  Monsieur  I/as,"  said  he,  "that 
I  shall  ascend  this  river  of  the  Illini  and  reach 
Michiganon  well  before  the  snows.  Once  at  the 
mission  of  the  Miamis,  or  the  village  at  the  river 
Chicaqua,  I  shall  be  quite  safe  for  the  winter,  if 
I  decide  not  to  go  farther  on.  Then,  in  the  spring, 
I  make  no  doubt,  I  shall  be  able  to  trade  our  furs 


214          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

at  the  Straits,  if  I  like  not  the  long  run  down 
to  the  Mountain.  Thus,  you  see,  I  may  be  with  you 
again  sometime  within  the  following  spring." 

"I  hope  it  may  be  so,  my  friend,"  replied  Law, 
"for  I  shall  miss  you  sadly  enough." 

"'Tis  nothing,  Monsieur;  you  will  be  well  occu 
pied.  Suppose  I  take  with  me  Kataikini  and 
Kabayan,  perhaps  also  Tete  Gris.  That  will  give 
us  four  paddlers  for  the  big  canoe,  and  you  will 
still  have  left  Pierre  Noir  and  Jean,  to  say  nothing 
of  our  friends  the  Illini  hereabout,  who  will  be  glad 
enough  to  make  cause  with  you  in  case  of  need. 
I  will  leave  Wabana  for  madame,  and  trust  she  may 
prove  of  service.  See  to  it,  pray  you,  that  she 
observes  the  offices  of  the  church;  for  methinks,  un 
less  watched,  Wabana  is  disposed  to  become  careless 
and  un-Christianized." 

"This  I  will  look  to,"  said  Law,  smiling. 

"Then  all  is  well,"  resumed  Du  Mesne,  "and  my 
absence  will  be  but  a  little  thing,  as  we  measure 
it  on  the  trails.  You  may  find  a  winter  alone  in 
the  wilderness  a  bit  dull  for  you,  mayhap  duller 
than  were  it  in  London,  or  even  in  Quebec.  Yet 
'twill  pass,  and  in  time  we  shall  meet  again.  Per 
haps  some  good  father  will  be  wishing  to  come 
back  with  me  to  set  up  a  mission  among  the  Illini. 
These  good  fathers,  they  so  delight  in  losing  fin- 


THE    BRINK    OF    CHANGE  215 

gers,  and  ears,  and  noses  for  the  good  of  the  Church 
— though  where  the  Church  be  glorified  therein  I 
sometimes  can  not  say.  Perhaps  some  leech — may 
hap  some  artisan — " 

"Nay,  'tis  too  far  a  spot,  Du  Mesne,  to  tempt 
others  than  ourselves." 

"Upon  the  contrary  rather,  Monsieur  I/as.  It 
is  matter  for  laughter  to  see  the  efforts  of  Louis 
and  his  ministers  to  keep  New  France  chained  to 
the  St.  Lawrence!  Yet  my  good  lord  governor 
might  as  well  puff  out  his  cheeks  against  the  north 
wind  as  to  try  to  keep  New  France  from  pouring 
west  into  the  Messasebe;  and  as  much  might  be 
said  for  those  good  rulers  of  the  English  colonies, 
who  are  seeking  ever  to  keep  their  people  east  of  the 
Alleghanies." 

"'Tis  the  Old  World  over  again,  there  in  the 
St.  Lawrence,"  said  Law. 

"Right  you  are,  Monsieur  L'as,"  exclaimed  Du 
Mesne.  "New  France  is  but  an  extension  of  the 
family  of  Louis.  The  intendant  reports  everything 
to  the  king.  Monsieur  So-and-so  is  married.  Very 
well,  the  king  must  know  it!  Monsieur's  eldest 
daughter  is  making  sheep's  eyes  at  such  and  such 
a  soldier  of  the  regiment  of  the  king.  Very  well, 
this  is  weighty  matter,  of  which  the  king  must  be 
advised!  Monsieur's  wife  becomes  expectant  of  a 


216          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

son  and  heir.  'Tis  meet  that  Louis  the  Great  should 
be  advised  of  this !  Mother  of  God !  'Tis  a  pretty 
mess  enough  back  there  on  the  St.  Lawrence,  where 
not  a  hen  may  cackle  over  its  new-laid  egg  but  the 
king  must  know  it,  and  where  not  a  family  has 
meat  enough  for  its  children  to  eat  nor  clothes 
enough  to  cover  them.  My  faith,  in  that  poor  med 
ley  of  little  lords  and  lazy  vassals,  how  can  you 
wonder  that  the  best  of  us  have  risen  and  taken  to 
the  woods!  Yet  'tis  we  who  catch  their  beaver  for 
them;  and  if  God  and  the  king  be  willing,  some 
time  we  shall  get  a  certain  price  for  our  beaver 
— provided  God  and  the  king  furnish  currency  to 
pay  us;  and  that  the  governor,  the  priest  and  the 
intendant  ratify  the  acts  of  God  and  the  king!" 

Law  smiled  at  the  sturdy  vehemence  of  the  other's 
speech,  yet  there  was  something  of  soberness  in  his 
own  reply. 

"Sir,"  said  he,  "you  see  here  my  little  crooked 
rows  of  maize.  Look  you,  the  beaver  will  pass 
away,  but  the  roots  of  the  corn  will  never  be  torn 
out.  Here  is  your  wealth,  Du  Mesne." 

The  sturdy  captain  scratched  his  head.  "I  only 
know,  for  my  part,"  said  he,  "that  I  do  not  care 
for  the  settlements.  Not  that  I  would  not  be  glad 
to  see  the  king  extend  his  arm  farther  to  the 
West,  for  these  sullen  English  are  crowding  us  more 


THE   BKINK   OP    CHANGE  217 

and  more  along  our  borders.  Surely  the  land  be 
longs  to  him  who  finds  it." 

"Perhaps  better  to  him  who  can  both  find  and 
hold  it.  But  this  soil  will  one  day  raise  up  a 
people  of  its  own." 

"Yet  as  to  thai,"  rejoined  Du  Mesne,  as  the  two 
turned  and  walked  back  to  the  stockade,  "we  are 
not  here  to  handle  the  affairs  of  either  Louis  or 
William.  Let  us  e'en  leave  that  to  monsieur  the 
intendant,  and  monsieur  the  governor,  and  our 
friends,  the  gray  owls  and  the  black  crows,  the 
Recollets  and  the  Jesuits.  I  mind  to  call  this  spot 
home  with  you,  if  you  like.  I  shall  be  back  as  soon 
as  may  be  with  the  things  we  need,  and  we  shall 
plant  here  no  starving  colony,  but  one  good  enough 
for  the  home  of  any  man.  Monsieur,  I  wish  you 
very  well,  and  I  may  congratulate  you  on  your 
daughter.  A  heartier  infant  never  was  born  any 
where  on  the  water  trail  between  the  Mountain  and 
the  Messasebe.  What  name  have  you  chosen  for  the 
young  lady,  Monsieur  ?" 

"I  have  decided,"  said  John  Law,  "to  call  her 
Catharine." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

TOUS   SAUVAGES 

Had  nature  indeed  intended  Law  for  the  wild 
life  of  the  trail,  and  had  he  indeed  spent  years  rather 
than  months  among  these  unusual  scenes,  he  could 
hardly  have  been  hetter  fitted  for  the  part.  Hardy 
of  limb,  keen  of  eye,  tireless  of  foot,  with  a  hand 
which  any  weapon  fitted,  his  success  as  hunter  made 
his  companions  willing  enough  to  assign  to  him  the 
chase  of  the  bison  or  the  stag ;  so  that  he  became  not 
only  patron  but  provider  for  the  camp. 

Some  weeks  after  the  departure  of  Du  Mesne,  Law 
was  returning  from  the  hunt  some  miles  below  the 
station.  His  tall  and  powerful  figure,  hardened  by 
continued  outdoor  exercise,  was  scarce  bowed  by  the 
weight  of  the  wild  buck  which  he  bore  across  his 
shoulders.  His  eye,  accustomed  to  the  instant  readi 
ness  demanded  in  the  voyageur^s  life,  glanced  keenly 
about,  taking  in  each  item  of  the  scene,  each  move 
ment  of  the  little  bird  on  the  tree,  the  rustling  of 
the  grass  where  a  rabbit  started  from  its  form, 
(218) 


TOUS    SAUVAGES  219 

the  whisk  of  the  gray  squirrel's  tail  on  the  limb 
far  overhead. 

The  touch  of  autumn  was  now  in  the  air.  The 
leaves  of  the  wild  grapevine  were  falling.  The  oaks 
had  donned  garments  of  somber  brown,  the  hicko 
ries  had  lost  their  leaves,  while  here  and  there 
along  the  river  shores  the  flaming  sentinels  of  the 
maples  had  changed  their  scarlet  uniform  for  one 
of  duller  hue.  The  wild  rice  in  the  marshes  had 
shed  its  grain  upon  the  mud  banks.  The  acorns 
were  loosening  in  their  cups.  Fall  in  the  West, 
gorgeous,  beautiful,  had  now  set  in,  of  all  the  sea 
sons  of  the  year,  that  most  loved  by  the  huntsman. 

This  tall,  lean  man,  clad  in  buckskin  like  a  sav 
age,  brown  almost  as  a  savage,  as  active  and  as  alert, 
seemed  to  fit  not  ill  with  these  environments,  nor 
to  lack  either  confidence  or  contentment.  He 
walked  on  steadily,  following  the  path  along  the 
bayou  bank,  and  at  length  paused  for  a  moment, 
throwing  down  his  burden  and  stooping  to  drink 
at  the  tiny  pool  made  by  the  little  rivulet  which 
trickled  down  the  face  of  the  bluff.  Here  he  bathed 
his  face  and  hands  in  the  cool  stream,  for  the 
moment  abandoning  himself  to  that  rest  which  the 
hunter  earns.  It  was  when  at  length  he  raised  his 
head  and  turned  to  resume  his  burden  that  his  sus 
picious  eye  caught  a  glimpse  of  something  which 


220          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

sent  him  in  a  flash  below  the  level  of  the  grasses, 
and  thence  to  the  cover  of  a  tree  trunk. 

As  he  gazed  from  his  hiding-place  he  saw  the 
tawny  waters  of  the  hayou  broken  into  a  long  se 
ries  of  advancing  ripples.  Passing  the  fringe  of 
wild  rice,  swimming  down  beneath  the  heavy  cord 
age  of  the  wild  grapevines,  there  came  on  two  canoes, 
roughly  made  of  elm  bark,  in  fashion  which  would 
have  shown  an  older  frontiersman  full  proof  of  their 
Western  origin. 

In  the  bow  of  the  foremost  boat,  as  Law  could 
now  clearly  see,  sat  a  slender  young  man,  clad 
in  the  uniform,  now  soiled  and  faded,  of  a  captain 
in  the  British  army.  His  boat  was  propelled  by 
four  dusky  paddlers,  Indians  of  the  East.  Stalwart, 
powerful,  silent,  they  sent  the  craft  on  down  stream, 
their  keen  eyes  glancing  swiftly  from  one  point 
to  the  other  of  the  ever-changing  panorama,  yet 
finding  nothing  that  would  seem  to  warrant  pause. 
Back  of  the  first  boat  by  a  short  distance  came  a 
kindred  craft,  its  crew  comprising  two  white  men 
and  two  Indian  paddlers.  Of  the  white  men,  one 
might  have  been  a  petty  officer,  the  other  perhaps 
a  private  soldier. 

It  was,  then,  as  Du  Mesne  had  said.  Every  party 
bound  into  the  West  must  pass  this  very  point  upon 
the  river  of  the  Illini.  But  why  should  these  be 


/ 


TOUS   SAUVAGES  221 

present  here?  Were  they  friends  or  foes?  So 
queried  the  watcher,  tense  and  eager  as  a  waiting 
panther,  now  crouched  with  straining  eye  behind  the 
sheltering  tree. 

As  the  leading  hoat  swung  clear  of  the  shadows, 
the  man  in  the  prow  turned  his  face,  scanning 
closely  the  shore  of  the  stream.  As  he  did  so,  Law 
half  started  to  his  feet,  and  a  moment  later  stepped 
from  his  concealment.  He  gazed  again  and  again, 
doubting  what  he  saw.  Surely  those  clean-cut, 
handsome  features  could  belong  to  no  man  but  his 
former  friend,  Sir  Arthur  Pembroke! 

Yet  how  could  Sir  Arthur  be  here?  What  could 
be  his  errand,  and  how  had  he  been  guided  hither? 
These  sudden  questions  might,  upon  the  instant, 
have  confused  a  brain  ready  as  that  of  this  observer, 
who  paused  not  to  reflect  that  this  meeting,  seem 
ingly  so  impossible,  was  in  fact  the  most  natural 
thing  in  the  world;  indeed,  could  scarce  have  been 
avoided  by  any  one  traveling  with  Indian  guides 
down  the  waterway  to  the  Messasebe. 

The  keen  eyes  of  the  red  paddlers  caught  sight 
of  the  crushed  grasses  at  the  little  landing  on  the 
bayou  bank,  even  as  Law  rose  from  his  hiding- 
place.  A  swift,  concerted  sweep  of  the  paddles  sent 
the  boat  circling  out  into  midstream,  and  before 
Law  knew  it  he  was  covered  by  half  a  dozen  guns. 


222          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

He  hardly  noticed  this.  His  own  gun  he  left  lean 
ing  against  a  tree,  and  his  hand  was  thrown  out 
high  in  front  of  him  as  he  came  on,  calling  out  to 
those  in  the  stream.  He  heard  the  command  of  the 
leader  in  the  boat,  and  a  moment  later  both  canoes 
swung  inshore. 

"Have  down  your  guns,  Sir  Arthur,"  cried  Law, 
loudly  and  gaily.  "We  are  none  but  friends  here. 
Come  in,  and  tell  me  that  it  is  yourself,  and  not 
some  miracle  of  mine  eyes." 

The  young  man  so  surprisingly  addressed  half 
started  from  the  thwart  in  his  amazement.  His 
face  bent  into  an  incredulous  frown,  scarce  car 
rying  comprehension,  even  as  he  approached  the 
shore.  As  he  left  the  boat,  for  an  instant  Pembroke's 
hand  was  half  extended  in  greeting,  yet  a  swift 
change  came  over  his  countenance,  and  his  body  stif 
fened. 

"Is  it  indeed  you,  Mr.  Law?"  he  said.  "I  could 
not  have  believed  myself  so  fortunate." 

"'Tis  myself  and  no  one  else,"  replied  Law. 
"But  why  this  melodrama,  Sir  Arthur?  Why  re 
ject  my  hand?" 

"I  have  sworn  to  extend  to  you  no  hand  but  that 
bearing  a  weapon,  Mr.  Law !"  said  Pembroke.  "This 
may  be  accident,  but  it  seems  to  me  the  justice  of 
God.  Oh,  you  have  run  far,  Mr.  Law — " 


.TOUS    SAUVAGES  223 

"What  mean  you,  Sir  Arthur?"  exclaimed  Law, 
his  face  assuming  the  dull  red  of  anger.  "I  have 
gone  where  I  pleased,  and  asked  no  man's  leave  for 
it,  and  I  shall  live  as  I  please  and  ask  no  man's 
leave  for  that.  I  admit  that  it  seems  almost  a 
miracle  to  meet  you  here,  but  come  you  one  way 
or  the  other,  you  come  best  without  riddles,  and 
still  better  without  threats." 

"You  are  not  armed,"  said  Sir  Arthur.  He  gazed 
at  the  bronzed  figure  before  him,  clad  in  fringed 
tunic  and  leggings  of  deer  hide;  at  the  belt  with 
little  knife  and  ax,  at  the  gun  which  now  rested 
in  the  hollow  of  his  arm.  Law  himself  laughed 
keenly. 

"Why,  as  to  that,"  said  he,  "I  had  thought  my 
self  well  enough  equipped.  But  as  for  a  sword, 
'tis  true  my  hand  is  more  familiar,  these  days,  with 
the  ax  and  gun." 

"The  late  Jessamy  Law  shows  change  in  his  ca 
pacity  of  renegade,"  said  Pembroke,  raspingly.  His 
face  displayed  a  scorn  which  jumped  ill  with  the 
nature  of  the  man  before  him. 

"I  am  what  I  am,  Sir  Arthur,"  said  Law,  "and 
what  I  was.  And  always  I  am  at  any  man's  service 
who  is  in  search  of  what  you  call  God's  justice, 
or  what  I  may  call  personal  satisfaction.  I  doubt 
not  we  shall  find  my  other  trinkets  in  good  order 


224          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

not  far  away.  But  meantime,  before  you  turn  my 
hospitality  into  shame,  bring  on  your  men  and  fol 
low  me." 

His  face  working  with  emotion,  Law  turned  away. 
He  caught  up  the  body  of  the  dead  buck,  and  tossing 
it  across  his  shoulders,  strode  up  the  winding  path 
way. 

"Come,  Gray,  and  Ellsworth,"  said  Pembroke. 
"Get  your  men  together.  We  shall  see  what  there 
is  to  this." 

At  the  summit  of  the  river-bluff  Law  awaited 
their  arrival.  He  noted  in  silence  the  look  of  sur 
prise  which  crossed  Pembroke's  face  as  at  length 
they  came  into  view  of  the  little  panorama  of  the 
stockade  and  its  surroundings. 

"This  is  my  home,  Sir  Arthur,"  said  he  simply. 
"These  are  my  fields.  And  see,  if  I  mistake  not, 
yonder  is  some  proof  of  the  ability  of  my  people 
to  care  for  themselves." 

He  pointed  to  the  gateway,  from  the  loop-holes 
guarding  which  there  might  now  be  seen  protruding 
two  long  dark  barrels,  leveled  in  the  direction  of 
the  approaching  party.  There  came  a  call  from 
within  the  palisade,  and  the  sound  of  men  running 
to  take  their  places  along  the  wall.  Law  raised  his 
hand,  and  the  barrels  of  the  guns  were  lowered. 


TOUS    SAUVAGES  225 

"This,  then,  is  your  hiding-place  I"  said  Pem 
broke. 

"I  call  it  not  such.     'Tis  public  to  the  world." 

"Tush!  You  lack  not  in  the  least  of  your  old 
conceit  and  assurance,  Mr.  Law !"  said  Pembroke. 

"Nay,  I  lack  not  so  much  in  assurance  of  my 
self,"  said  Law,  "as  in  my  patience,  which  I  find, 
Sir  Arthur,  now  begins  to  grow  a  bit  short  about 
its  breath.  But  since  the  courtesy  of  the  trail  de 
mands  somewhat,  I  say  to  you,  there  is  my  home. 
Enter  it  as  friend  if  you  like,  but  if  not,  come  as 
you  please.  Did  you  indeed  come  bearing  war,  I 
should  be  obliged  to  signify  to  you,  Sir  Arthur,  that 
you  are  my  prisoner.  You  see  my  people." 

"Sir,"  replied  Sir  Arthur,  blindly,  "I  have  vowed 
to  find  you  no  matter  where  you  should  go." 

"It  would  seem  that  your  vow  is  well  fulfilled. 
But  now,  since  you  deal  in  mysteries,  I  shall  even 
ask  you  definitely,  Sir  Arthur,  who  and  what  are 
you?  Why  do  you  come  hither,  and  how  shall  we. 
regard  you?" 

"I  am,  in  the  first  place,"  said  Sir  Arthur,  "mes 
senger  of  my  Lord  Bellomont,  governor  at  Albany 
of  our  English  colonies.  I  add  my  chief  errand, 
which  has  been  to  find  Mr.  Law,  whom  I  would  hold 
to  an  accounting." 


226          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

"Oh,  granted/'  replied  Law,  flicking  lightly  at 
the  cuff  of  his  tunic,  "yet  your  errand  still  carries 
mystery." 

"You  have  at  least  heard  of  the  Peace  of  Eys- 
wick,  I  presume?" 

"No ;  how  should  I  ?     And  why  should  I  care  ?" 

"None  the  less,  the  king  of  England  and  the 
king  of  France  are  no  longer  at  war,  nor  are  their 
colonies  this  side  of  the  water.  There  are  to  be 
no  more  raids  between  the  colonies  of  New  England 
and  New  France.  The  Hurons  are  to  give  back 
their  English  prisoners,  and  the  Iroquois  are  to  re 
turn  all  their  captives  to  the  French.  The  Western 
tribes  are  to  render  up  their  prisoners  also,  be  they 
French,  English,  Huron  or  Iroquois.  The  errand 
of  carrying  this  news  was  offered  to  me.  It  agreed 
well  enough  with  my  own  private  purposes.  I  had 
tracked  you,  Mr.  Law,  to  Montreal,  lost  you  on  the 
Richelieu,  and  was  glad  enough  to  take  up  this 
chance  of  finding  you  farther  to  the  West.  And 
now,  by  the  justice  of  heaven,  as  I  have  said,  I 
have  found  you  easily." 

"And  has  Sir  Arthur  gone  to  sheriff  ing?  Has 
my  friend  become  constable?  Is  Sir  Arthur  a  spy? 
Because,  look  you,  this  is  not  London,  nor  yet  New 
France,  nor  Albany.  This  is  Messasebe!  This  is 
my  valley.  I  rule  here.  Now,  if  kings,  or  consta- 


TOUS    SAUVAGES  227 

bles,  or  even  spies,  wish  to  find  John  Law — why, 
here  is  John  Law.  Now  watch  your  people,  and 
go  you  carefully  here,  else  that  may  follow  which 
will  be  ill  extinguished." 

Pembroke  flung  down  his  sword  upon  the  ground 
in  front  of  him. 

"You  are  lucky,  Mr.  Law,"  said  he,  "lucky  as 
ever.  But  surely,  never  was  man  so  eminently  de 
serving  of  death  as  yourself." 

"You  do  me  very  much  honor,  Sir  Arthur,"  re 
plied  Law.  "Here  is  your  sword,  sir."  Stooping, 
he  picked  it  up  and  handed  it  to  the  other.  "I 
did  but  ill  if  I  refused  to  accord  satisfaction  to  one 
bringing  me  such  speech  as  that.  'Tis  well  you  wear 
your  weapons,  Sir  Arthur,  since  you  come  thus  as 
emissary  of  the  Great  Peace!  I  know  you  for  a 
gentleman,  and  I  shall  ask  no  parole  of  you  to 
night;  but  meantime,  let  us  wait  until  to-morrow, 
when  I  promise  you  I  shall  be  eager  as  yourself. 
Come !  We  can  stand  here  guessing  and  talking  no 
longer.  I  am  weary  of  it." 

They  came  now  to  the  gate  of  the  stockade,  and 
there  Pembroke  stood  for  a  moment  in  surprise  and 
perplexity.  He  was  not  prepared  to  meet  this  dark- 
haired,  wide-eyed  girl,  clad  in  native  dress  of  skin, 
with  tinkling  metals  at  wrist  and  ankle,  and  on  her 
feet  the  tiny,  beaded  shoes.  For  her  part,  Mary 


228          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

Connynge,  filled  with  woman's  curiosity,  was  yet 
less  prepared  for  that  which  appeared  before  her 
— an  apparition,  as  ran  her  first  thought,  come  to 
threaten  and  affright. 

"Sir  Arthur!"  she  began,  her  trembling  tongue 
but  half  forming  the  words.  Her  eyes  stared  in 
terror,  and  beneath  her  dark  skin  the  blood  shrank 
away  and  left  her  pale.  She  recoiled  from  him,  her 
left  hand  carrying  behind  her  instinctively  the  babe 
that  lay  on  her  arm. 

Sir  Arthur  bowed,  but  found  no  word.  He  could 
only  look  questioningly  at  Law. 

"Madam,"  said  the  latter,  "Sir  Arthur  Pembroke 
journeys  through  as  the  messenger  of  Lord  Bello- 
mont,  governor  at  Albany,  to  spread  peace  among 
the  Western  tribes.  He  has  by  mere  chance  blun 
dered  upon  our  valley,  and  will  delay  over  night. 
It  seemed  well  you  should  be  advised." 

Mary  Connynge,  gray  and  pale,  haggard  and  hor 
rified,  dreading  all  things  and  knowing  nothing, 
found  no  manner  of  reply.  Without  a  word  she 
turned  and  fled  back  into  the  cabin. 

Sir  Arthur  once  more  looked  about  him.  Motion 
ing  to  the  others  of  the  party  to  remain  outside 
the  gate,  Law  led  him  within  the  stockade.  On 
one  hand  stood  Pierre  Noir,  tall,  silent,  impassive 
as  a  savage,  leaning  upon  his  gun  and  fixing  on 


TOUS    SAUVAGES  229 

the  red  coat  of  the  English  uniform  an  eye  none 
too  friendly.  Jean  Brebceuf,  his  piece  half  ready 
and  his  voluble  tongue  half  on  the  point  of  break 
ing  over  restraint,  Law  quieted  with  a  gesture. 
Back  of  these,  ranged  in  a  silent  yet  watchful  group, 
their  weapons  well  in  hand,  stood  numbers  of  the 
savage  allies  of  this  new  war-lord.  Pembroke 
turned  to  Law  again. 

"You  are  strongly  stationed,  sir;  but  I  do  not 
understand." 

"It  is  my  home." 

"But  yet— why?" 

"As  well  this  as  any,  where  one  leaves  an  old  life 
and  begins  a  new,"  said  Law.  "'Tis  as  good  a 
place  as  any  if  one  would  leave  all  behind,  and  if 
he  would  forget." 

"And  this — that  is  to  say — madam?" 

Sir  Arthur  stumbled  in  his  speech.  John  Law 
looked  him  straight  in  the  eye,  a  slow,  sad  smile 
upon  his  face. 

"Had  we  here  the  plank  of  poor  La  Salle  his 
ship,"  said  he,  "we  might  nail  the  message  of  that 
other  renegade  above  our.  door — 'Nous  sommes  tons 
sauvages!'" 


CHAPTEK  IX 

THE  DEEAM 

That  night  John  Law  dreamed  as  he  slept,  and 
it  was  in  some  form  the  same  haunting  and  fa 
miliar  dream.  In  his  vision  he  saw  not  the  low 
roof  nor  the  rude  walls  about  him.  To  his  mind 
there  appeared  a  little  dingy  room,  smaller  than 
this  in  which  he  lay,  with  walls  of  stone,  with  door 
of  iron  grating  and  not  of  rough-hewn  slabs.  He 
saw  the  door  of  the  prison  cell  swing  open;  saw  near 
it  the  figure  of  a  noble  young  girl,  with  large  and 
frightened  eyes  and  lips  half  tremulous.  To  this 
vision  he  outstretched  his  hands.  He  was  almost 
conscious  of  uttering  some  word  supplicatingly,  al 
most  conscious  of  uttering  a  name. 

Perhaps  he  slept  on.  .We  little  know  the  ways 
of  the  land  of  dreams.  It  might  have  been  half 
an  instant  or  half  an  hour  later  that  he  sud 
denly  awoke,  finding  his  hand  clapped  close  against 
his  side,  where  suddenly  there  had  come  a  sharp 
and  burning  pain.  His  own  hand  struck  another. 
He  saw  something  gleaming  in  the  light  of  the 
(230) 


THE   DREAM  231 

flickering  fire  which  still  survived  upon  the  hearth. 
The  dim  rays  lit  up  two  green,  glowing,  venomous 
balls,  the  eyes  of  the  woman  whom  he  found  bending 
above  him.  He  reached  out  his  hand  in  the  instinct 
of  safety.  This  which  glittered  in  the  firelight  was 
the  blade  of  a  knife,  and  it  was  in  the  hand  of  Mary 
Connynge ! 

In  a  moment  Law  was  master  of  himself.  "Give 
it  to  me,  Madam,  if  you  please,"  he  said,  quietly, 
and  took  the  knife  from  fingers  which  loosened  un 
der  his  grasp.  There  was  no  further  word  spoken. 
He  tossed  the  knife  into  a  crack  of  the  bunk  be 
yond  him.  He  lay  with  his  right  arm  doubled  under 
his  head,  looking  up  steadily  into  the  low  ceiling, 
upon  which  the  fire  made  ragged  masses  of  shad 
ows.  His  left  arm,  round,  full  and  muscular,  lay 
across  the  figure  of  the  woman  whom  he  had  forced 
down  upon  the  couch  beside  him.  He  could  feel 
her  bosom  rise  and  pant  in  sheer'  sobs  of  anger. 
Once  he  felt  the  writhing  of  the  body  beneath  his 
arm,  but  he  simply  tightened  his  grasp  and  spoke 
no  word. 

It  was  not  far  from  morning.  In  time  the  gray 
dawn  came  creeping  in  at  the  window,  until  at 
length  the  chinks  between  the  logs  in  the  little 
square-cut  window  and  the  ill-fitting  door  were 
flooded  with  a  sea  of  sunlight.  As  this  light  grew 


232          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

stronger,  Law  slowly  turned  and  looked  at  the  face 
beside  him.  Out  of  the  tangle  of  dark  hair  there 
blazed  still  two  eyes,  eyes  which  looked  steadily  up 
at  the  ceiling,  refusing  to  turn  either  to  the  right 
or  to  the  left.  He  calmly  pulled  closer  to  him,  so 
that  it  might  not  stain  the  garments  of  the  woman 
beside  him,  the  blood-soaked  shirt  whose  looseness 
and  lack  of  definition  had  perhaps  saved  him  from 
a  fatal  blow.  He  paid  no  attention,  to  his  wound, 
which  he  knew  was  nothing  serious.  So  he  lay  and 
looked  at  Mary  Connynge,  and  finally  removed  his 
arm. 

"Get  up,"  said  he,  simply,  and  the  woman  obeyed 
him. 

"The  fire,  Madam,  if  you  please,  and  breakfast." 

These  had  been  the  duties  of  the  Indian  woman, 
but  Mary  Connynge  obeyed. 

"Madam,"  said  Law,  calmly,  after  the  morning 
meal  was  at  last  finished  in  silence,  "I  shall  be  very 
glad  to  have  your  company  for  a  few  moments,  if 
you  please." 

Mary  Connynge  rose  and  followed  him  into  the 
open  air,  her  eyes  still  fixed  upon  the  dark-crusted 
stain  which  had  spread  upon  his  tunic.  They  walked 
in  silence  to  a  point  beyond  the  cabin. 

"You  would  call  her  Catharine  1"  burst  put  Mary 


THE   DEEAM  233 

Connynge.  "Oh!  I  heard  you  in  your  very  sleep. 
You  believe  every  lying  word  Sir  Arthur  tells  you. 
You  believe — " 

John  Law  looked  at  her  with  the  simple  and  di 
rect  gaze  which  the  tamer  of  the  wild  beast  employs 
when  he  goes  among  them,  the  look  of  a  man  not 
afraid  of  any  living  thing. 

"Madam,"  said  he,  at  length',  calmly  and  evenly, 
as  before,  "what  I  have  said,  sleeping  or  waking, 
will  not  matter.  You  have  tried  to  kill  me.  You 
did  not  succeed.  You  will  never  try  again.  Now, 
Madam,  I  give  you  the  privilege  of  kneeling  here 
on  the  ground  before  me,  and  asking  of  me,  not  my 
pardon,  but  the  pardon  of  the  woman  you  have 
foully  stabbed,  even  as  you  have  me/' 

The  figure  before  him  straightened  up,  the  blaz 
ing  yellow  eyes  sought  his  once,  twice,  thrice,  behind 
them  all  the  fury  of  a  savage  soul.  It  was  of  no 
avail.  The  cool  blue  eyes  looked  straight  into  her 
heart.  The  tall  figure  stood  before  her,  unyielding. 
She  sought  to  raise  her  eyes  once  more,  failed,  and 
so  would  have  sunk  down  as  he  had  said,  actually 
on  her  knees  before  him. 

John  Law  extended  a  hand  and  stopped  her. 
"There,"  said  he.  "It  will  suffice.  I  can  not  de 
mean  you.  There  is  the  child." 


234 


"You  called  her  Catharine !"  broke  out  the  woman 
once  more  in  her  ungovernable  rage.  "You  would 
name  my  child — "  . 

"Madam,  get  up!"  said  John  Law,  sharply  and 
sternly.  "Get  up  on  your  feet  and  look  me  in  the 
face.  The  child  shall  be  called  for  her  who  should 
have  been  its  mother.  Let  those  forgive  who  can. 
That  you  have  ruined  my  life  for  me  is  but  perhaps 
a  fair  exchange;  yet  you  shall  say  no  word  against 
that  woman  whose  life  we  have  both  of  us  de 
spoiled." 


CHAPTER  X 

BY  THE  HILT  OF  THE  SWORD 

Law  passed  on  out  at  the  gate  of  the  stockade 
and  down  to  the  bivouac,  where  Pembroke  and  his 
men  had  spent  the  night. 

"Now,  Sir  Arthur,"  said  he  to  the  latter,  when 
he  had  found  him,  "come.  I  am  ready  to  talk  with 
you.  Let  us  go  apart." 

Pembroke  joined  him,  and  the  two  walked  slowly 
away  toward  the  encircling  wood  which  swept  back 
of  the  stockade.  Law  turned  upon  him  at  length 
squarely. 

"Sir  Arthur,"  said  he,  "I  think  you  would  tell  me 
something  concerned  with  the  Lady  Catharine  Knol- 
lys.  Do  you  bring  any  message  from  her?" 

The  face  of  Pembroke  flamed  scarlet  with  sudden 
wrath.  "Message!"  said  he.  "Message  from  Lady 
Catharine  Knollys  to  you?  By  God!  sir,  her  only 
message  could  be  her  hope  that  she  might  never  hear 
your  name  again." 

"You  have  still  your  temper,  Sir  Arthur,  and  you 

speak  harsh  enough." 

(235) 


236          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

"Harsh  or  not,"  rejoined  Pembroke,  "I  scarce  can 
endure  her  name  upon  your  lips.  You,  who  scouted 
her,  who  left  her,  who  took  up  with  the  lewdest 
woman  in  all  Great  Britain,  as  it  now  appears — 
you  who  would  consort  with  this  creature — " 

"In  this  matter/*  said  John  Law,  simply,  "you 
are  not  my  prisoner,  and  I  beg  you  to  speak  frankly. 
It  shall  be  man  and  man  between  us." 

"How  you  could  have  stooped  to  such  baseness 
is  what  mortal  man  can  never  understand/'  re 
sumed  Sir  Arthur,  bitterly.  "Good  God!  to  aban 
don  a  woman  like  that  so  heartlessly — " 

"Sir  Arthur/'  said  John  Law,  his  voice  trem 
bling,  "I  do  myself  the  very  great  pleasure  of  tell 
ing  you  that  you  lie  I" 

For  a  moment  the  two  stood  silent,  facing  each 
other,  the  face  of  each  stony,  gone  gray  with  the 
emotions  back  of  it. 

"There  is  light,"  said  Pembroke,  "and  abundant 
space." 

They  turned  and  paced  back  farther  toward  the 
open  forest  glade.  Yet  now  and  again  their  steps 
faltered  and  half  paused,  and  neither  man  cared  to 
go  forward  or  to  return.  Pembroke's  face,  stern  as 
it  had  been,  again  took  on  the  imprint  of  a  growing 
hesitation. 


"Mr.  Law,"  said  he,  "there  is  something  in  your 
attitude  which  I  admit  puzzles  me.  I  ask  you  in 
all  honor,  I  ask  you  on  the  hilt  of  that  sword  which 
I  know  you  will  never  disgrace,  why  did  you  thus 
flout  the  Lady  Catharine  Knollys?  Why  did  you 
scorn  her  and  take  up  with  this  woman  yonder  in 
her  stead?" 

"Sir  Arthur,"  said  John  Law,  with  trembling  lips, 
"I  must  be  very  low  indeed  in  reputation,  since  you 
can  ask  me  question  such  as  this." 

"But  you  must  answer!"  cried  Sir  Arthur,  "and 
you  must  swear !" 

"If  you  would  have  my  answer  and  my  oath,  then 
I  give  you  both.  I  did  not  do  what  you  suggest, 
nor  can  I  conceive  how  any  man  should  think  me 
guilty  of  it.  I  loved  Lady  Catharine  Knollys  with 
all  my  heart.  'Twas  my  chief  bitterness,  keener 
than  even  the  thought  of  the  gallows  itself,  that 
she  forsook  me  in  my  trouble.  Then,  bitter  as  any 
man  would  be,  I  persuaded  myself  that  I  cared 
naught.  Then  came  this  other  woman.  Then  I — 
well,  I  was  a  man  and  a  fool — a  fool,  Sir  Arthur, 
a  most  miserable  fool!  Every  moment  of  my  life 
since  first  I  saw  her,  I  have  loved  the  Lady  Catha 
rine  ;  and,  God  help  me,  I  do  now !" 

Sir  Arthur  struck  his  hand  upon  the  hilt  of  his 


238          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

sword.  "You  were  more  lucky  than  myself,  as  I 
know,"  said  he,  and  from  his  lips  broke  half  a 
groan. 

"Good  God !"  broke  out  Law.  "Let  us  not  talk  of 
it.  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor,  there  has  been 
no  happiness  to  this.  But  come!  We  waste  time. 
Let  us  cross  swords !" 

"Wait.  Let  me  explain,  since  we  are  in  the  way 
of  it.  You  must  know  that  'twas  within  the  plans 
of  Montague  that  Lady  Catharine  Knollys  should 
be  the  agent  of  your  freedom.  I  was  pledged  to 
the  Lady  Catharine  to  assist  her,  though,  as  you 
may  perhaps  see,  sir,"  and  Pembroke  gulped  in  his 
throat  as  he  spoke,  "  'twas  difficult  enough,  this  part 
that  was  assigned  to  me.  It  was  I,  Mr.  Law,  who 
drove  the  coach  to  the  gate,  the  coach  which  brought 
the  Lady  Catharine.  'Twas  she  who  opened  the 
door  of  Newgate  jail  for  you.  My  God!  sir,  how" 
could  you  walk  past  that  woman,  coming  there  as 
she  did,  with  such  a  purpose!" 

'At  hearing  these  words,  the  tall  figure  of  the 
man  opposed  to  him  drooped  and  sank,  as  though 
under  some  fearful  blow.  He  staggered  to  a  near 
by  support  and  sank  weakly  to  a  seat,  his  head 
falling  between  his  hands,  his  whole  face  convulsed. 

"Ah!"  said  he,  "you  did  right  to  cross  seas  in 
search  of  me !  God  hath  indeed  found  me  out  and 


BY    THE    HILT    OF    THE    SWORD       239 

given  me  my  punishment.  Yet  I  ask  God  to  bear 
me  witness  that  I  knew  not  the  truth.  Come,  Sir 
Arthur !  Come,  I  beseech  you !  Let  us  fall  to !" 

"I  shall  be  no  man's  executioner  for  his  sentence 
on  himself.  I  could  not  fight  you  now."  His  eye 
fell  by  chance  upon  the  blotch  in  Law's  blood 
stained  tunic.  "And  here,"  he  said;  "see!  You 
are  already  wounded." 

"  'Twas  but  one  woman's  way  of  showing  her 
regard,"  said  Law.  "  'Twas  Mary  Connynge  stabbed 
me." 

"But  why?" 

"Nay,  I  am  glad  of  it;  since  it  proves  the  truth 
of  all  you  say,  even  as  it  proves  me  to  be  the  most 
unworthy  man  in  all  the  world.  Oh,  what  had  it 
meant  to  me  to  know  a  real  love !  God !  How  could 
I  have  been  so  blind  ?" 

"  ?Tis  the  ancient  puzzle." 

"Yes!"  cried  Law.  "And  let  us  make  an  end  of 
puzzles!  Your  quarrel,  sir,  I  admit  is  just.  Let 
us  go  on." 

"And  again  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Law,"  replied  Sir 
Arthur,  "that  I  will  not  fight  you." 

"Then,  sir,"  said  Law,  dropping  his  own  sword 
upon  the  grass  and  extending  his  hand  with  a  broken 
smile,  "  'tis  I  who  am  your  prisoner !" 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  IROQUOIS 

Even  as  Sir  Arthur  and  John  Law  clasped  hands, 
there  came  a  sudden  interruption.  A  half-score 
yards  deeper  in  the  wood  there  arose  a  sudden,  half- 
choked  cry,  followed  by  a  shrill  whoop.  There  was 
a  crashing  as  of  one  running,  and  immediately 
there  pressed  into  the  open  space  the  figure  of  an 
Indian,  an  old  man  from  the  village  of  the  Illini. 
Even  as  his  staggering  footsteps  brought  him  within 
gaze,  the  two  startled  observers  saw  the  shaft  which 
had  sunk  deep  within  his  breast.  He  had  been 
shot  through  by  an  Indian  arrow,  and  upon  the 
instant  it  was  all  too  plain  whose  hand  had  sped 
the  shaft.  Following  close  upon  his  heels  there  came 
a  stalwart  savage,  whose  face,  hideously  painted, 
appeared  fairly  demoniacal  as  he  came  bounding 
on  with  uplifted  hatchet,  seeking  to  strike  down 
the  victim  already  impaled  by  the  silent  arrow. 

"Quick !"  cried  Law,  in  a  flash  catching  the  mean 
ing  of  this  sudden  spectacle.     "Into  the  fort,  Sir 
Arthur,  and  call  the  men  together .!" 
(240) 


THE    IEOQUOIS  241 

Not  stopping  to  relieve  the  struggles  of  the  vic 
tim,  who  had  now  fallen  forward  gasping,  Law 
sprang  on  with  drawn  blade  to  meet  the  advancing 
savage.  The  latter  paused  for  an  uncertain  moment, 
and  then  with  a  shrill  yell  of  defiance,  hurled  the 
keen  steel  hatchet  full  at  Law's  head.  It  shore 
away  a  piece  of  his  hat  brim,  and  sank  with  edge 
deep  buried  in  the  trunk  of  a  tree  beyond.  The 
savage  turned,  but  turned  too  late.  The  blade  of 
the  swordsman  passed  through  from  rib  to  rib  under 
his  arm,  and  he  fell  choking,  even  as  he  sought 
again  to  give  vent  to  his  war-cry. 

And  now  there  arose  in  the  woods  beyond,  and  in 
the  fields  below  the  hill,  and  from  the  villages  of 
the  neighboring  Indians,  a  series  of  sharp,  ululat 
ing  yells.  Shots  came  from  within  the  fortress, 
where  the  loop-holes  were  already  manned.  There 
were  borne  from  the  nearest  wigwams  of  the  Illini 
the  screams  of  wounded  men,  the  shrieks  of  terri 
fied  women.  In  an  instant  the  peaceful  spot  had 
become  the  scene  of  a  horrible  confusion.  Once 
more  the  wolves  of  the  woods,  the  Iroquois,  had 
fallen  on  their  prey ! 

Swift  as  had  been  Law's  movements,  Pembroke 
was  but  a  pace  behind  him  as  he  wrenched  free 
his  blade.  The  two  turned  back  together  and  started 
at  speed  for  the  palisade.  At  the  gate  they  met 


242          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

others  hurrying  in,  Pembroke's  men  joining  in  the 
rush  of  the  frightened  villagers.  Among  these  the 
Iroquois  pressed  with  shrill  yells,  plying  knife  and 
bow  and  hatchet  as  they  ran,  and  the  horrified  eyes 
of  those  within  the  palisade  saw  many  a  tragedy 
enacted. 

"Watch  the  gate!"  cried  Pierre  Noir,  from  his 
station  in  the  corner  tower.  As  he  spoke  there  came 
a  rush  of  screaming  Iroquois,  who  sought  to  gain 
the  entrance. 

"Now!"  cried  Pierre  Noir,  discharging  his  piece 
into  the  crowded  ranks  below  him;  and  shot  after 
shot  followed  his  own.  The  packed  brown  mass 
gave  back  and  resolved  itself  into  scattered  units, 
who  broke  and  ran  for  the  nearest  cover. 

"They  will  not  come  on  again  until  dark,"  said 
Pierre  Noir,  calmly  leaning  his  piece  against  the 
wall.  "Therefore  I  may  attend  to  certain  little  mat 
ters." 

He  passed  out  into  the  entry-way,  where  lay  the 
bodies  of  three  Iroquois,  abandoned,  under  the  close 
and  deadly  fire,  by  their  companions  where  they  had 
fallen.  When  Pierre  Noir  returned  and  calmly 
propped  up  again  the  door  of  slabs  which  he  had  re 
moved,  he  carried  in  his  hand  three  tufts  of  long 
black  hair,  from  which  dripped  heavy  gouts  of 
blood. 


THE   IROQUOIS  243 

"Good  God,  man!"  said  Pembroke.  "You  must 
not  be  savage  as  these  Indians !" 

"Speak  for  yourself,  Monsieur  Anglais/'  replied 
Pierre,  stoutly.  "You  need  not  save  these  head 
pieces  if  you  do  not  care  for  them.  For  myself, 
'tis  part  of  the  trade." 

"Assuredly,"  broke  in  Jean  Brebreuf.  "We  keep 
these  trinkets,  we  voyageurs  of  the  French.  Make 
no  doubt  that  Jean  Breboauf  will  take  back  with 
him  full  tale  of  the  Indians  he  has  killed.  Presently 
I  go  out.  Zip !  goes  my  knife,  and  off  comes  the 
topknot  of  Monsieur  Indian,  him  I  killed  but  now 
as  he  ran.  Then  I  shall  dry  the  scalp  here  by  the 
fire,  and  mount  it  on  a  bit  of  willow,  and  take  it 
back  for  a  present  to  my  sweetheart,  Susanne  Du- 
chene,  on  the  seignieury  at  home." 

"Bravo,  Jean!"  cried  out  the  old  Indian  fighter, 
Pierre  Noir,  the  old  baresark  rage  of  the  fighting 
man  now  rising  hot  in  his  blood.  "And  look! 
Here  come  more  chances  for  our  little  ornaments." 

Pierre  Noir  for  once  had  been  mistaken  and  un 
derestimated  the  courage  of  the  warriors  of  the 
Onondagos.  Lashing  themselves  to  fury  at  the 
thought  of  their  losses,  they  came  on  again,  now 
banding  and  charging  in  the  open  close  up  to  the 
walls  of  the  palisade.  Again  the  little  party  of 
whites  maintained  a  steady  fire,  and  again  the  Iro- 


244         THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

quois,  baffled  and  enraged,  fell  back  into  the  wood, 
whence  they  poured  volley  after  volley  rattling 
against  the  walls  of  the  sturdy  fortress. 

"I  am  sorry,  sir,"  said  Sergeant  Gray  to  Pembroke, 
"but  'tis  all  up  with  me."  The  poor  fellow  stag 
gered  against  the  wall,  and  in  a  few  moments  all 
was  indeed  over  with  him.  A  chance  shot  had 
pierced  his  chest. 

"Peste!  If  this  keeps  up,"  said  Pierre  Noir, 
"there  will  not  be  many  of  us  left  by  morning.  I 
never  saw  them  fight  so  well.  ?Tis  a  good  watch 
we'll  need  this  night." 

In  fact,  all  through  the  night  the  Iroquois  tried 
every  strategem  of  their  savage  warfare.  With  ear- 
splitting  yells  they  came  close  up  to  the  stockade, 
and  in  one  such  charge  two  or  three  of  their  young 
men  even  managed  to  climb  to  the  tops  of  the 
pointed  stakes,  though  but  to  meet  their  death  at 
the  muzzles  of  the  muskets  within.  Then,  there 
arose  curving  lines  of  fire  from  without  the  walls, 
half  circles  which  terminated  at  last  in  little  jarring 
thuds,  where  blazing  arrows  fell  and  stood  in  log, 
or  earth,  or  unprotected  roof.  These  projectiles, 
wrapped  with  lighted  birch  bark,  served  as  fire 
brands,  and  danger  enough  they  carried.  Yet,  after 
some  fashion,  the  little  garrison  kept  down  these 
incipient  blazes,  held  together  the  terrified  Illini, 


THE   IROQUOIS  245 

repulsed  each  repeated  charge  of  the  Iroquois,  and 
so  at  last  wore  through  the  long  and  fearful  night. 

The  sun  was  just  rising  across  the  tops  of  the 
distant  groves  when  the  Iroquois  made  their  next 
advance.  It  came  not  in  the  form  of  a  concerted 
attack,  but  of  an  appeal  for  peace.  A  party  of  the 
savages  left  their  cover  and  approached  the  fortress, 
waving  their  hands  above  their  heads.  One  of  them, 
presently  advanced  alone. 

"What  is  it,  Pierre?"  asked  Law.  "What  does 
the  fellow  want?" 

"I  care  not  what  he  wants,"  said  Pierre  Noir, 
carefully  adjusting  the  lock  of  his  piece  and  steadily 
regarding  the  savage  as  he  approached;  "but  I'll 
wager  you  a  year's  pay  he  never  gets  alive  past  yon 
der  stump." 

"Stay!"  cried  Pembroke,  catching  at  the  barrel 
of  the  leveled  gun.  "I  believe  he  would  talk  with 
us." 

"What  does  he  say,  Pierre?"  asked  Law.  "Speak 
to  him,  if  you  can." 

"He  wants  to  know,"  said  Pierre,  as  the  messen 
ger  at  length  stopped  and  began  a  harangue,  "whether 
we  are  English  or  French.  He  says  something  about 
there  being  a  big  peace  between  Corlaer  and  Onon- 
tio;  by  which  he  means,  gentlemen,  the  governor 
at  New  York  and  the  governor  at  Quebec." 


246          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

"Tell  him,"  cried  Pembroke,  with  a  sudden 
thought,  "that  I  am  an  officer  of  Corlaer,  and  that 
Corlaer  bids  the  Iroquois  to  bring  in  all  the  pris 
oners  they  have  taken.  Tell  him  that  the  French 
are  going  to  give  up  all  their  prisoners  to  us,  and 
that  the  Iroquois  must  leave  the  war  path,  or  my 
Lord  Bellomont  will  take  the  war  trail  and  wipe 
their  villages  off  the  earth." 

Something  in  this  speech  as  conveyed  to  the  sav 
age  seemed  to  give  him  a  certain  concern.  He  re 
tired,  and  presently  his  place  was  taken  by  a  tall 
and  stately  figure,  dressed  in  the  full  habiliments 
of  an  Iroquois  chieftain.  He  came  on  calmly  and 
proudly,  his  head  erect,  and  in  his  extended  hand 
the  long-stemmed  pipe  of  peace.  Pierre  Noir 
heaved  a  deep  sigh  of  relief. 

"Unless  my  eyes  deceive  me,"  said  he,  "'tis  old 
Teganisoris  himself,  one  of  the  head  men  of  the 
Onondagos.  If  so,  there  is  some  hope,  for  Tegan 
isoris  is  wise  enough  to  know  when  peace  is  best." 

It  was,  indeed,  that  noted  chieftain  of  the  Iroquois 
who  now  advanced  close  up  to  the  wall.  Law  and 
Pembroke  stepped  out  to  meet  him  beyond  the  pali 
sade,  the  old  voyageur  still  serving  as  interpreter 
from  the  platform  at  their  back. 

"He  says — listen,  Messieurs! — he  says  he  knows 
there  is  going  to  be  a  big  peace;  that  the  Iroquois 


THE    IKOQUOIS  247 

are  tired  of  fighting  and  that  their  hearts  are  sore. 
He  says — a  most  manifest  lie,  I  beg  you  to  observe, 
Messieurs — that  he  loves  the  English,  and  that, 
although  he  ought  to  kill  the  Frenchmen  of  our 
garrison,  he  will,  since  some  of  us  are  English, 
and  hence  his  friends,  spare  us  all  if  we  will  cease 
to  fight." 

Pembroke  turned  to  Law  with  question  in  his  eye. 

"There  must  be  something  done,"  said  the  latter 
in  a  low  tone.  "We  were  short  enough  of  ammuni 
tion  here  even  before  Du  Mesne  left  for  the  settle 
ments,  and  your  own  men  have  none  too  much  left." 

"  'Reflect !  Bethink  yourselves,  Englishmen !'  he 
says  to  us,"  continued  Pierre  Noir.  "  'We  came  to 
make  war  upon  the  Illini.  Our  work  here  is  done. 
'Tis  time  now  that  we  went  back  to  our  villages. 
If  there  is  to  be  a  big  peace,  the  Iroquois  must  be 
there;  for  unless  the  Iroquois  demand  it,  there  can 
be  no  peace  at  all/  And,  gentlemen,  I  beg  you  to 
remember  it  is  an  Iroquois  who  is  talking,  and  that 
the  truth  is  not  in  the  tongue  of  an  Iroquois." 

"'Tis  a  desperate  chance,  Mr.  Law,"  said  Pem 
broke.  "Yet  if  we  keep  up  the  fight  here,  there 
can  be  but  one  end." 

"'Tis  true,"  said  Law;  "and  there  are  others  to 
be  considered." 

It  was  hurriedly   thus   concluded.    Law  finally 


248 

advanced  toward  the  tall  figure  of  the  Iroquois  head 
man,  and  looked  him  straight  in  the  face. 

"Tell  him,"  said  he  to  Pierre  Noir,  "that  we  are 
all  English,  and  that  we  are  not  afraid;  and  that 
if  we  are  harmed,  the  armies  of  Corlaer  will  destroy 
the  Iroquois,  even  as  the  Iroquois  have  the  Illini. 
Tell  him  that  we  will  go  back  with  him  to  the  set 
tlements  because  we  are  willing  to  go  that  way  upon 
a  journey  which  we  had  already  planned.  We  could 
fight  forever  if  we  chose,  and  he  can  see  for  himself 
by  the  bodies  of  his  young  men  how  well  we  are 
able  to  make  war." 

"It  is  well,"  replied  Teganisoris.  "You  have  the 
word  of  an  Iroquois  that  this  shall  be  done,  as  I 
have  said." 

"The  word  of  an  Iroquois!"  cried  Pierre  Noir, 
slamming  down  the  butt  of  his  musket.  "The  word 
of  a  snake,  say  rather!  Jean  Breboeuf,  harken 
you  to  what  our  leaders  have  agreed!  We  are  to 
go  as  prisoners  of  the  Iroquois!  Mary,  Mother  of 
God,  what  folly!  And  there  is  madame,  and  la 
pauvre  petite,  that  infant  so  young.  By  God! 
Were  it  left  to  me,  Pierre  Berthier  would  stand  here 
and  fight  to  the  end.  I  know  these  Iroquois !" 


CHAPTER  XII 

PRISONERS  OF  THE  IROQUOIS 

The  faith  of  the  Iroquois  was  worse  than  Punic, 
nor  was  there  lacking  swift  proof  of  its  real  nature. 
Law  and  Pembroke,  the  moment  they  had  led  their 
little  garrison  beyond  the  gate,  found  themselves 
surrounded  by  a  ring  of  tomahawks  and  drawn 
bows.  Their  weapons  were  snatched  away  from 
them,  and  on  the  instant  they  found  themselves 
beyond  all  possibility  of  that  resistance  whose  giv 
ing  over  they  now  bitterly  repented.  Teganisoris 
regarded  them  with  a  sardonic  smile. 

"I  see  you  are  all  English,"  said  he,  "though  some 
of  you  wear  blue  coats.  These  we  may  perhaps 
adopt  into  our  tribe,  for  our  boys  grow  up  but  slowly, 
and  some  of  the  blue  coats  are  good  fighters.  These 
dogs  of  Illini  we  shall  of  course  burn.  As  for  your 
war  house,  you  will  no  longer  need  it,  since  you 
are  now  friends  of  the  Iroquois,  and  are  going  to 
their  villages.  You  may  say  to  Corlaer  that  you 
well  know  the  Iroquois  have  no  prisoners." 
(249) 


250          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

The  horrid  significance  of  this  threat  was  all  too 
soon  made  plain.  In  an  hour  the  little  stockade 
was  but  a  mass  of  embers  and  ashes.  In  another 
hour  the  little  valley  had  become  a  Gehenna  of  an 
guish  and  lamentations,  with  whose  riot  of  grief 
and  woe  there  mingled  the  savage  exultations  of  a 
foe  whose  treachery  was  but  surpassed  by  his  cruelty. 
Again  the  planting-ground  of  the  Illini  was  ut 
terly  laid  waste,  to  mark  it  naught  remaining  but 
trampled  grain,  and  heaps  of  ashes,  and  remnants 
of  blackened  and  incinerated  bones.  By  nightfall 
the  party  of  prisoners  had  begun  a  wild  journey 
through  the  wilderness,  whose  horrors  surpassed  any 
they  had  supposed  to  be  humanly  endurable. 

Day  after  day,  week  after  week,  for  more  than  a 
month,  and  much  of  the  time  in  winter  weather,  they 
toiled  on,  part  of  the  way  by  boat,  the  remainder  of 
the  journey  on  foot,  crossing  snow-clogged  forest,  and 
tangled  thicket  and  frozen  morass,  yet  daring  not 
to  drop  out  for  rest,  since  to  lag  might  mean  to  die. 
It  was  as  though  after  some  frightful  nightmare 
of  suffering  and  despair  that  at  length  they  reached 
the  villages  of  the  Five  Nations,  located  far  to  the 
east,  at  the  foot  of  the  great  waterway  which  Law 
and  his  family  had  ascended  more  than  a  year  before. 

Yet  if  that  which  had  gone  before  seemed  like 


PKISONEKS    OF   THE    IROQTJOIS      251 

some  bitter  dream,  surely  the  day  of  awakening 
promised  but  little  better  hope.  From  village  to 
village,  footsore  and  ill,  they  were  hurried  without 
rest,  at  each  new  stopping  place  the  central  figures 
of  a  barbarous  triumph;  and  nowhere  did  they  meet 
the  representatives  of  either  the  French  or  the 
English  government,  whose  expected  presence  had 
constituted  their  one  ground  of  hope. 

"Where  is  your  big  peace?"  asked  Teganisoris 
of  Pembroke.  "Where  are  the  head  men  of  Cor- 
laer?  Who  brings  presents  to  the  Iroquois,  and  who 
is  to  tell  us  that  Onontio  has  carried  the  pipe  of 
peace  to  Corlaer?  Here  are  our  villages  as  when 
we  left  them,  and  here  again  are  we,  save  for  the 
absent  ones  who  have  been  killed  by  your  young 
men.  It  is  no  wonder  that  my  people  are  dis 
pleased." 

Indeed  those  of  the  Iroquois  who  had  remained 
at  home  clamored  continually  that  some  of  the  pris 
oners  should  be  given  over  to  them.  Thus,  in  doubt, 
uncertainty  and  terror  the  party  passed  through 
the  villages,  moving  always  eastward,  until  at  length 
they  arrived  at  the  fortified  town  where  Teganisoris 
made  his  home,  a  spot  toward  the  foot  of  Lake 
Ontario,  and  not  widely  removed  from  that  stupen 
dous  cataract  which,  from  the  beginning  of  earth, 


252 


had  uplifted  its  thunderous  diapason  here  in  the 
savage  wilderness — Ontoneagrea,  object  of  supersti 
tious  awe  among  all  the  tribes. 

Time  hung  heavy  on  the  hands  of  the  savages. 
,  It  was  winter,  and  the  parties  had  all  returned 
from  the  war  trails.  The  mutterings  arose  yet  more 
loudly  among  families  who  had  lost  most  heavily 
in  these  Western  expeditions.  The  shrewd  mind  of 
Teganisoris  knew  that  some  new  thing  must  be 
planned.  He  announced  his  decision  at  his  own 
village,  after  the  triumphal  progress  among  the 
tribes  had  at  length  been  concluded. 

"Since  they  have  sent  us  no  presents,"  said  he, 
with  that  daring  diplomacy  which  made  him  a  leader 
in  red  statesmanship,  "let  those  who  stayed  at  home 
be  given  some  prisoner  in  pay  for  those  of  their 
people  who  have  been  killed.  Moreover,  let  us  offer 
to  the  Great  Spirit  some  sacrifice  in  propitiation; 
since  surely  the  Great  Spirit  is  offended."  Such 
was  the  conclusion  of  this  head  man  of  the  Ononda- 
gos,  and  fateful  enough  it  was  to  the  prisoners. 

The  great  gorge  through  which  poured  the  vast 
waters  of  the  Northern  seas  was  a  spot  not  always 
visited  by  those  passing  up  the  Great  Lakes  for  the 
Western  stations,  nor  down  the  Lakes  to  the  settle 
ments  of  the  St.  Lawrence.  Yet  there  was  a  trail 
which  led  around  the  great  cataract,  and  the  occa- 


PKISOKERS    OF   THE   IROQUOIS      253 

sional  coureurs  de  lots,  or  the  passing  friars,  or  the 
adventurous  merchants  of  the  lower  settlements  now 
and  again  left  that  trail,  and,  came  to  look  upon  the 
tremendous  scene  of  the  great  falling  of  the  waters. 
Here  where  the  tumult  ascended  up  to  heaven,  and 
where  the  white-blown  wreaths  of  mist  might  in 
deed,  even  in  an  imagination  better  than  that  of 
a  savage,  have  been  construed  into  actual  forms  of 
spirits,  the  Indians  had,  from  time  immemorial, 
made  their  offerings  to  the  genius  of  the  cataract 
—strips  of  rude  cloth,  the  skin  of  the  beaver  and 
the  otter,  baskets  woven  of  sweet  grasses,  and,  after 
the  advent  of  the  white  man,  pieces  of  metal  or 
strings  of  precious  beads.  Such  valued  things  as 
these  were  in  rude  adoration  placed  upon  rocks  or 
uplifted  scaffolds  near  to  the  brink  of  the  abyss. 
This  was  the  spot  most  commonly  chosen  by  the 
medicine  man  in  the  pursuit  of  his  incantations. 
It  was  the  church,  the  wild  and  savage  cathedral 
of  the  red  men. 

'  Following  now  the  command  of  their  chieftain, 
the  Iroquois  left  their  stationary  lodges  and  moved 
in  a  body,  pitching  a  temporary  camp  at  a  spot 
not  far  from  the  Falls.  Here,  in  a  great  council 
lodge,  the  older  men  sat  in  deliberation  for  a  full 
day  and  night.  The  dull  drum  sounded  continu 
ally,  the  council  pipe  went  round,  and  the  war- 


254          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

riors  besought  the  spirits  to  give  them  knowledge. 
The  savage  hysteria,  little  by  little,  yet  steadily, 
arose  higher  and  higher,  until  at  length  it  reached 
that  point  of  frenzy  where  naught  could  suffice  save 
some  terrible,  some  tremendous  thing. 

Enforced  spectators  of  these  curious  and  ominous 
ceremonies,  the  prisoners  looked  on,  wondering, 
imagining,  hesitating  and  fearing.  "Monsieur," 
said  Pierre  Noir,  turning  at  last  to  Law,  "it  grieves 
me  to  speak,  yet  'tis  best  for  you  to  know  the  truth. 
It  is  to  be  you  or  Monsieur  Pembroke.  They  will 
not  have  me.  They  say  that  it  must  be  one  of  you 
two  great  chiefs,  for  that  you  were  brave,  your 
hearts  were  strong,  and  that  hence  you  would  find 
favor  as  the  adopted  child  of  the  Great  Spirit  who 
has  been  offended." 

Law  looked  at  Pembroke,  and  they  both  regarded 
Mary  Connynge  and  the  babe.  "At  least,"  said 
Law,  "they  spare  the  woman  and  the  child.  So  far 
very  well.  Sir  Arthur,  we  are  at  the  last  hazard." 

"I  have  asked  them  to  take  me,"  said  Pierre 
ISToir,  "for  I  am  an  old  man  and  have  no  family. 
But  they  will  not  listen  to  me." 

Pembroke  passed  his  hand  wearily  across  his  face. 
"I  have  behind  me  so  long  a  memory  of  suffering," 
said  he,  "and  before  me  so  small  an  amount  of 
promise,  that  for  myself  I  am  content  to  let  it  end. 


PRISONERS    OF    THE    IROQUOIS       255 

It  comes  to  all  sooner  or  later,  according  to  our 
fate." 

"You  speak,"  said  Law,  "as  though  it  were  deter 
mined.  Yet  Pierre  says  it  will  not  be  both  of  us, 
but  one." 

Pembroke  smiled  sadly.  "Why,  sir,"  said  he,  "do 
you  think  me  so  sorry  a  fellow  as  that?  Look!" 
and  he  pointed  to  Mary  Connynge  and  the  child. 
"There  is  your  duty." 

Law  followed  his  gaze,  and  his  look  was  returned 
dumbly  by  the  woman  who  had  played  so  strange 
a  part  in  the  late  passages  of  his  life.  Never  a  word 
with  her  had  Law  spoken  regarding  his  plans  or 
concerning  what  he  had  learned  from  Pembroke. 
As  to  this,  Mary  Connynge  had  been  afraid  to  ask, 
nor  dare  ask  even  now. 

"Besides,"  went  on  Pembroke  later,  as  he  called 
Law  aside,  "there  is  something  to  be  done — not 
here,  but  over  there,  in  England,  or  in  France. 
Your  duty  is  involved  not  only  with  this  woman. 
You  must  find  sometime  the  other  woman.  You 
must  see  the  Lady  Catharine  Knollys." 

Law  sunk  his  head  between  his  hands  and  groaned 
bitterly. 

"Go  you  rather,"  said  he,  "and  spend  your  life 
for  her.  I  choose  that  it  should  end  at  once,  and 
here." 


250          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

"I  have  not  been  wont  to  call  Mr.  Law  a  coward/' 
said  Pembroke,  simply. 

"I  should  be  a  coward  if  I  should  stand  aside 
and  allow  you  to  sacrifice  yourself;  nor  shall  I  do 
so/'  replied  the  other. 

"They  say/'  broke  in  Pierre  Noir,  who  had  been 
listening  to  the  excited  harangues  of  first  one  war 
rior  and  then  another,  "that  both  warriors  are  great 
chiefs,  and  that  both  should  go  together.  Tegan- 
isoris  insists  that  only  one  shall  be  offered.  This 
last  has  been  almost  agreed;  but  which  one  of  you 
'tis  to  be  has  not  yet  been  determined." 

Dawn  came  through  the  narrow  door  and  open 
roof  holes  of  the  lodge.  The  rising  of  the  sun 
seemed  to  bring  conviction  to  the  Iroquois.  All  at 
once  the  savage  council  broke  up  and  scattered  into 
groups,  which  hurried  to  different  parts  of  the  vil 
lage.  Presently  these  reappeared  at  the  central 
lodge.  There  sounded  a  concerted  savage  chant. 
A  ragged  column  appeared,  whose  head  was  faced 
toward  the  cataract.  There  were  those  who  bore 
strings  of  beads  and  strips  of  fur,  even  the  prized 
treasures  of  the  tufted  scalp  locks,  whose  tresses, 
combed  smooth,  were  adorned  with  colored  cloth  and 
feathers. 

Pierre  Noir  was  silent;  yet,  as  the  captives  looked, 


PRISONERS    OF   THE   IROQUOIS      257 

they  needed  no  advice  that  the  sacrificial  proces 
sion  was  now  forming. 

"They  said,"  began  Pierre  Noir,  at  length,  with 
trembling  voice,  turning  his  eyes  aside  as  he  spoke, 
"that  it  could  not  be  myself,  that  it  must  be  one  of 
you,  and  but  one.  They  are  going  to  cast  lots  for 
it.  It  is  Teganisoris  who  has  proposed  that  the 
lots  shall  be  thrown  by — "  Pierre  Noir  faltered, 
unwilling  to  go  on. 

"And  by  whom  ?"  asked  Law,  quietly. 

"By — by  the  woman — by  madame !" 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  SACRIFICE 

There  was  sometimes  practised  among  the  Iro- 
quois  a  game  which  bore  a  certain  resemblance  to 
the  casting  of  dice,  as  the  latter  is  known  among 
civilized  peoples.  The  method  of  the  play  was  sim 
ple.  Two  oblong  polished  bones,  of  the  bigness  of 
a  man's  finger,  were  used  as  the  dice.  The  ends 
of  these  were  ground  thin  and  were  rudely  polished. 
One  of  the  dice  was  stained  red,  the  other  left  white. 
The  players  in  the  game  marked  out  a  line  on  the 
hard  ground,  and  then  each  in  turn  cast  up  the  two 
dice  into  the  air,  throwing  them  from  some  recep 
tacle.  The  game  was  determined  by  the  falling  of 
the  red  bone,  he  who  cast  this  colored  bone  closer 
to  the  line  upon  the  ground  being  declared  the 
winner.  The  game  was  simple,  and  depended  much 
upon  chance.  If  the  red  die  fell  flat  upon  its  face 
at  a  point  near  to  the  line,  it  was  apt  to  lie  close 
to  the  spot  where  it  dropped.  On  the  other  hand, 
did  it  alight  upon  either  end,  it  might  bound  back 
(258) 


THE    SACRIFICE  259 

and  fall  at  some  little  distance  upon  one  side  of 
the  line. 

It  was  this  game  which,  in  horrible  fashion,  Te- 
ganisoris  now  proposed  to  play.  He  offered  to  the 
clamoring  medicine  man  and  his  ferocious  disci 
ples  one  of  these  captives,  whose  death  should  ap 
pease  not  only  the  offended  Great  Spirit,  but  also 
the  unsated  vengeance  of  the  tribe.  He  offered, 
at  the  same  time,  the  spectacle  of  a  play  in  which 
a  human  life  should  be  the  stake.  He  used  as 
practical  executioner  the  woman  who  was  possessed 
by  one  of  them,  and  who,  in  the  crude  notions  of  the 
savages,  was  no  doubt  coveted  by  both.  It  must 
be  the  hand  of  this  woman  that  should  cast  the 
dice,  a  white  one  and  a  red  one  for  each  man,  and 
he  whose  red  die  fell  closer  to  the  line  was  winner 
in  the  grim  game  of  life  and  death. 
\  Jean  Brebceuf  and  Pierre  Noir  stood  apart,  and 
tears  poured  from  the  eyes  of  both.  They  were 
hardened  men,  well  acquainted  with  Indian  warfare ; 
they  had  seen  the  writhings  of  tortured  victims, 
and  more  than  once  had  faced  such  possibilities 
themselves;  yet  never  had  they  seen  sight  like  this. 
f  Near  the  two  men  stood  Mary  Connynge,  the 
bright  blood  burning  in  her  cheeks,  her  eyes  dry 
and  wide  open,  looking  from  one  to  the  other. 
God,  who  gives  to  this  earth  the  few  Mary  Con- 


260 


nynges,  alone  knows  the  nature  of  those  elements 
which  made  her,  and  the  character  of  the  conflict 
which  now  went  on  within  her  soul.  Tell  such  a 
woman  as  Mary  Connynge  that  she  has  a  rival,  and 
she  will  either  love  the  more  madly  the  man  whom 
she  demands  as  her  own,  or  with  equal  madness 
and  with  greater  intensity  will  hate  her  lover  with 
a  hatred  undying  and  unappeasable. 

Mary  Connynge  stood,  her  eyes  glancing  from  one 
to  the  other  of  the  men  before  her.  She  had  seen 
them  both  proved  brave  men,  strong  of  arm,  un 
daunted  of  heart,  both  gallant  gentlemen.  God, 
who  makes  the  Mary  Connynges  of  this  earth, 
only  can  tell  whether  or  not  there  arose  in  the 
heart  of  this  savage  woman,  this  woman  at  bay, 
scorned,  rebuked,  mastered,  this  one  question: 
Which?  If  Mary  Connynge  hated  John  Law,  or 
if  she  loved  him — ah!  how  must  have  pulsed  her 
heart  in  agony,  or  in  bitterness,  as  she  took  into 
her  hand  those  lots  which  were  the  arbiters  of  life 
and  death ! 

Teganisoris  looked  about  him  and  spoke  a  few 
rapid  words.  He  caught  Mary  Connynge  roughly 
by  the  shoulder  and  pulled  her  forward.  The  two 
men  stood  with  faces  set  and  gray  in  the  pitiless 
light  of  morn.  Their  arms  were  fast  bound  behind 


THE    SACRIFICE  261 

their  backs.  Eagerly  the  crowding  savages  pressed 
up  to  them,  gesticulating  wildly,  and  peering  again 
and  again  into  their  faces  to  discover  any  sign  of 
weakness.  They  failed.  The  pride  of  birth,  the 
strength  of  character,  the  sheer  animal  vigor  of 
each  man  stood  him  in  stead  at  this  ultimate  trial. 
Each  had  made  up  his  mind  to  die.  Each  proposed, 
not  doubting  that  he  would  be  the  one  to  draw  the 
fatal  lot,  to  die  as  a  man  and  a  gentleman. 

Teganisoris  would  play  this  game  with  all  pos 
sible  mystery  and  importance.  It  should  be  told 
generations  hence  about  the  council  fires,  how  he, 
Teganisoris,  devised  this  game,  how  he  played  it, 
how  he  drew  it  out  link  by  link  to  the  last  atom  of 
its  agony.  There  was  no  receptacle  at  hand  in  which 
the  dice  could  be  placed.  Teganisoris  stooped, 
and  without  ceremony  wrenched  from  Mary  Con- 
nynge's  foot  the  moccasin  which  covered  it — the 
little  shoe — beaded,  beautiful,  and  now  again  fate 
ful.  Sir  Arthur  smiled  as  though  in  actual  joy. 

"My  friend,"  said  he,  "I  have  won!  This  might 
be  the  very  slipper  for  which  we  played  at  the  Green 
Lion  long  ago." 

Law  turned  upon  him  a  face  pale  and  solemn. 
"Sir,"  said  he,  "I  pray  God  that  the  issue  may  not 
be  as  when  we  last  played.  I  pray  God  that  the 
dice  may  elect  me  and  not  yourself," 


262          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

"You  were  ever  lucky  in  the  games  of  chance/' 
replied  Pembroke. 

"Too  lucky/'  said  Law.  "But  the  winner  here 
is  the  loser,  if  it  be  myself." 

Teganisoris  roughly  took  from  Mary  Connynge's 
hand  the  little  bits  of  bone.  He  cast  them  into 
the  hollow  of  the  moccasin  and  shook  them  dramat 
ically  together,  holding  them  high  above  his  head. 
Then  he  lowered  them  and  took  out  from  the  recep 
tacle  two  of  the  dice.  He  placed  his  hand  on 
Law's  shoulder,  signifying  that  his  was  to  be  the 
first  cast.  Then  he  handed  back  the  moccasin  to 
the  woman. 

Mary  Connynge  took  the  shoe  in  her  hand  and 
stepped  forward  to  the  line  which  had  been  drawn 
upon  the  ground.  The  red  spots  still  burned  upon 
her  cheeks ;  her  eyes,  amber,  feline,  still  flamed  hard 
and  dry.  She  still  glanced  rapidly  from  one  to  the 
other,  her  eye  as  lightly  quick  and  as  brilliant  as 
that  of  the  crouched  cat  about  to  spring. 

Which?  Which  would  it  be?  Could  she  con 
trol  this  game?  Could  she  elect  which  man  should 
live  and  which  should  die — this  woman,  scorned, 
abased,  mastered?  Neither  of  these  sought  to  read 
the  riddle  of  her  set  face  and  blazing  eyes.  Each 
as  he  might  offered  his  soul  to  his  Creator. 
The  hand  of  Mary  Connynge  was  raised  above 


THE   SACKIFICE  263 

her  head.  Her  face  was  turned  once  more  to  John 
Law,  her  master,  her  commander,  her  repudiator. 
Slowly  she  turned  the  moccasin  over  in  her  hand. 
The  white  bone  fell  first,  the  red  for  a  moment  hang 
ing  in  the  soft  folds  of  the  buckskin.  She  shook 
it  out.  It  fell  with  its  face  nearly  parallel  to  the 
ground  and  alighted  not  more  than  a  foot  from  the 
line,  rebounding  scarce  more  than  an  inch  or  so. 
Low  exclamations  arose  from  all  around  the  thick 
ened  circle. 

"As  I  said,  my  friend,"  cried  Sir  Arthur,  "I  have 
won!  The  throw  is  passing  close  for  you." 

Teganisoris  again  caught  Mary  Connynge  by  the 
shoulder,  and  dragged  her  a  step  or  so  farther  along 
the  line,  the  two  dice  being  left  on  the  ground 
as  they  had  fallen.  Once  more  her  hand  arose, 
once  more  it  turned,  once  more  the  dice  were  cast. 

The  goddess  of  fortune  still  stood  faithful  to 
this  bold  young  man  who  had  so  often  confidently 
assumed  her  friendship.  His  life,  later  to  be  so 
intimately  concerned  with  this  same  new  savagf 
country,  was  to  be  preserved  for  an  ultimate  oppor 
tunity. 

The  white  and  the  red  bone  fell  together  from  the 
moccasin.  Had  it  been  the  white  that  counted, 
Sir  Arthur  had  been  saved,  for  the  white  bone  lay 
actually  upon  the  line.  The  red  fell  almost 


264          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

as  close,  but  alighted  on  its  end.  As  though 
impelled  by  some  spirit  of  evil,  it  dropped  upon  some 
little  pebble  or  hard  bit  of  earth,  bounded  into  the 
air,  fell,  and  rolled  quite  away  from  the  mark ! 

Even  on  that  crowd  of  cruel  savages  there  came 
a  silence.  Of  the  whites,  one  scarce  dared  look  at 
the  other.  Slowly  the  faces  of  Pembroke  and  Law 
turned  one  toward  the  other. 

"Would  God  I  could  shake  you  by  the  hand," 
said  Pembroke.  "Good  by." 

"As  for  you,  dogs  and  worse  than  dogs,"  he  cried, 
turning  toward  the  red  faces  about  him,  "mark 
you!  where  I  stand  the  feet  of  the  white  man  shall 
stand  forever,  and  crush  your  faces  into  the  dirt !" 

Whether  or  not  the  Iroquois  understood  his  defi 
ance  could  not  be  determined.  With  a  wild  shout 
they  pressed  upon  him.  Borne  struggling  and 
stumbling  by  the  impulse  of  a  dozen  hands,  Pembroke 
half  walked  and  half  was  carried  over  the  distance 
between  the  village  and  the  brink  of  the  chasm  of 
Niagara. 

Until  then  it  had  not  been  apparent  what  was  to 
be  the  nature  of  his  fate,  but  when  he  looked  upon 
the  sliding  floor  of  waters  below  him,  and  heard 
beyond  the  thunderous  voices  of  the  cataract,  Pem 
broke  knew  what  was  to  be  his  final  portion. 

There  was,  at  some  distance  above  the  great  falls, 


THE    SACRIFICE  265 

a  spot  where  descent  was  possible  to  the  edge  of  the 
water.  Pembroke's  feet  were  loosened  and  he  was 
compelled  to  descend  the  narrow  path.  A  canoe 
was  tethered  at  the  shore,  and  the  face  of  the  young 
Englishman  went  pale  as  he  realized  what  was  to 
be  the  use  assigned  it.  Bound  again  hand  and  foot, 
helpless,  he  was  cast  into  this  canoe.  A  strong 
arm  sent  the  tiny  craft  out  toward  midstream. 

The  hands  of  the  great  waters  grasped  the  frail 
cockleshell,  twisted  it  about,  tossed  it,  played  with 
it,  and  claimed  it  irrevocably  for  their  own.  For 
a  few  moments  it  was  visible  as  it  passed  on  down 
with  the  resistless  current  of  the  mighty  stream. 
Almost  at  the  verge  of  the  plunge,  the  eyes  watching 
from  the  shore  saw  at  a  distance  the  struggle  made 
by  the  victim.  He  half  raised  himself  in  the  boat 
and  threw  himself  against  its  side.  It  was  overset. 
For  one  instant  the  cold  sun  shone  glistening  on 
the  wet  bark  of  the  upturned  craft.  It  was  but  a 
moment,  and  then  there  was  no  dot  upon  the  sol 
emn  flood. 


CHAPTER  XFV3 

THE  EMBASSY 

"Monsieur!  Madame!  Pierre  Noir!  Listen  to 
me!  I  have  saved  you!  I,  Jean  Brebceuf,  I  have 
rescued  you !" 

So  spoke  Jean  Breboouf,  thrusting  his  head  within 
the  door  of  the  lodge  in  which  were  the  remaining 
prisoners  of  the  Iroquois. 

It  was  indeed  Jean  Breboeuf  who,  strolling  be 
yond  the  outer  edge  of  the  village,  had  been  among 
the  first  to  espy  an  approaching  party  of  visitors. 
Of  any  travelers  possible,  none  could  have  been  more 
important  to  the  prisoners.  Too  late,  yet  welcome 
even  now,  the  embassy  from  New  France  among 
the  Iroquois  had  arrived.  In  an  instant  the  village 
was  in  an  uproar. 

The  leader  of  this  embassy  from  Quebec  was  one 
Captain  Joncaire,  at  that  time  of  the  French  settle 
ments,  but  in  former  years  a  prisoner  among  the 
Onondagos,  where  he  was  adopted  into  the  tribe 
and  much  respected.  Joncaire  was  accompanied 
by  a  priest  of  the  Jesuit  brotherhood,  by  a  young 
(266) 


THE    EMBASSY  267 

officer  late  of  the  regiment  Carignan,  and  by  two  or 
three  petty  Canadian  officials,  as  well  as  a  struggling 
retinue  of  savages  picked  up  on  the  way  between 
Lake  George  and  the  Indian  villages.  He  advanced 
now  at  the  head  of  his  little  party,  bearing  in  his 
hand  a  wampum  belt.  He  pushed  aside  the  young 
men,  and  demanded  that  he  be  brought  to  the  chief 
of  the  village.  Teganisoris  himself  presently  ad 
vanced  to  meet  him,  and  of  him  Joncaire  demanded 
that  there  should  at  once  be  called  a  full  council 
of  the  tribe;  with  which  request  the  chief  of  the 
Onondagos  hastened  to  comply. 

Fully  accustomed  to  such  ceremonies,  Joncaire 
sat  in  the  council  calmly  listening  to  the  speeches 
of  its  orators,  and  at  length  arose  for  his  own  reply. 
"Brothers,"  said  he,  "I  have  here" — and  he  drew 
from  his  tunic  a  copy  of  the  decree  of  Louis  XIV 
declaring  peace  between  the  French  and  the  English 
colonies — "a  talking  paper.  This  is  the  will  of 
Onontio,  whom  you  love  and  fear,  and  it  is  the  will 
of  the  great  father  across  the  water,  whom  Onontio 
loves  and  fears.  This  talking  paper  says  that  our 
young  men  of  the  French  colonies  are  no  longer  to 
go  to  war  against  Corlaer.  The  hatchet  has  been 
buried  by  the  two  great  fathers.  Brothers,  I  have 
come  to  tell  you  that  it  is  time  for  the  Iroquois  also 


268          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

to  bury  the  hatchet,  and  to  place  upon  it  heavy  stones, 
so  that  it  never  again  can  be  dug  up. 

"Brothers,  as  you  know,  the  great  canoes  from 
across  the  sea  are  bringing  more  and  more  white 
men.  Look  about  you,  and  tell  me  where  are  your 
fathers  and  your  brothers  and  your  sons?  Half 
your  fighting  men  are  gone ;  and  if  you  turn  to  the 
West  to  seek  out  strong  young  men  from  the  other 
tribes,  which  of  them  will  come  to  sit  by  your  fires 
and  be  your  brothers  ?  The  war  trails  of  the  Nations 
have  gone  to  the  West  as  far  as  the  Great  Eiver.  All 
the  country  has  been  at  war.  The  friends  of  Onontio 
beyond  Michilimackinac  have  been  so  busy  fighting 
that  they  have  forgotten  to  take  the  beaver,  or  if 
they  have  taken  it,  they  'have  been  afraid  to  bring 
it  down  the  water  trail  to  us,  lest  the  Iroquois  or  the 
English  should  rob  them. 

"Brothers,  a  great  peace  is  now  declared.  Onon 
tio,  the  father  of  all  the  red  men,  has  taken  the 
promises  of  his  children,  the  Hurons,  the  Algonquins, 
the  Miamis,  the  Illini,  the  Outagamies,  the  0 jib- 
ways,  all  those  peoples  who  live  to  the  west,  that  they 
will  follow  the  war  trail  no  more.  Next  summer 
there  will  be  a  great  council.  Onontio  and  Corlaer 
have  agreed  to  call  the  tribes  to  meet  at  the  Moun 
tain  in  the  St.  Lawrence.  Onontio  says  to  you  that 
he  will  give  you  back  your  prisoners,  and  now  he  de- 


THE   EMBASSY  269 

mands  that  you  in  return  give  back  those  whom 
you  may  have  with  you.  This  is  his  will;  and  if 
you  fail  him,  you  know  how  heavy  is  his  hand. 

"Brothers,  I  see  that  you  have  prisoners  here, 
white  prisoners.  These  must  be  given  up  to  TIB. 
I  will  take  them  with  me  when  I  return.  For  your 
Indian  captives,  it  is  the  will  of  Onontio  that  you 
bring  them  all  to  the  Great  Peace  in  the  summer, 
and  that  you  then,  all  of  you,  help  to  dig  the  great 
hill  under  which  the  hatchet  is  going  to  be  buried. 
Then  once  more  our  rivers  will  not  be  red,  and  will 
look  more  like  water.  The  sun  will  not  shine  red, 
but  will  look  as  the  sun  should  look.  The  sky 
will  again  be  blue.  Our  women  and  our  children 
will  no  longer  be  afraid,  and  you  Iroquois  can  go 
to  sleep  in  your  houses  and  not  dread  the  arms  of 
the  French.  Brothers,  I  have  spoken.  Peace  is 
good." 

Teganisoris  replied  in  the  same  strain  as  that 
chosen  by  Joncaire,  assuring  him  that  he  was  his 
brother;  that  his  heart  went  out  to  him;  that  the 
Iroquois  loved  the  French ;  and  that  if  they  had  gone 
to  war  with  them,  it  was  but  because  the  young  men 
of  Corlaer  had  closed  their  eyes  so  that  they  could 
not  see  the  truth.  "As  to  these  prisoners/'  said  he, 
"take  them  with  you.  We  do  not  want  them  with  us, 
for  we  fear  they  may  bring  us  harm.  Our  medicine 


270 


man  counseled  us  to  offer  up  one  of  these  prisoners 
as  a  sacrifice  to  the  Great  Spirit.  We  did  so.  Now 
our  medicine  man  has  a  bad  dream.  He  says  that 
the  white  men  are  going  to  come  and  tear  down  our 
houses  and  trample  our  fields.  When  the  time  comes 
for  the  peace,  the  Iroquois  will  be  at  the  Mountain. 
Brother,  we  will  bury  the  hatchet,  and  bury  it  so 
deep  that  henceforth  none  may  ever  again  dig  it  up." 

"It  is  well,"  said  Joncaire,  abruptly.  "My  broth 
ers  are  wise.  Now  let  the  council  end,  for  my  path 
is  long  and  I  must  travel  back  to  Onontio  at  once." 

Joncaire  knew  well  enough  the  fickle  nature  of 
these  savages,  who  might  upon  the  morrow  demand 
another  council  and  perhaps  arrive  at  different  con 
clusions.  Hearing  there  were  no  white  prisoners  in 
the  villages  farther  to  the  west,  he  resolved  to  set 
forth  at  once  upon  the  return  with  those  now  at 
hand.  Hurrying,  therefore,  as  soon  as  might  be, 
to  their  leader,  he  urged  him  to  make  ready  forthwith 
for  the  journey  back  to  the  St.  Lawrence. 

"Unless  I  much  mistake,  Monsieur,"  said  he  to 
Law,  "you  are  that  same  gentleman  who  so  set  all 
Quebec  by  the  ears  last  winter.  My  faith!  The 
regiment  Carignan  had  cause  to  rejoice  when  you 
left  for  up  river,  even  though  you  took  with 
you  half  the  ready  coin  of  the  settlement.  Yet  come 
you  once  more  to  meet  the  gentlemen  of  France, 


THE    EMBASSY  271 

and  I  doubt  not  they  will  be  glad  as  ever  to  stake 
you  high  as  may  be  in  this  poverty-stricken  region. 
You  have  been  far  to  the  westward,  I  doubt  not.  You 
were,,  perhaps,  made  prisoner  somewhere  below  the 
Straits." 

"Far  below;  among  the  tribe  of  the  Illini,  in  the 
valley  of  the  Messasebe." 

"You  tell  me  so!  I  had  thought  no  white  man 
left  in  that  valley  for  this  season.  And  madame — 
this  child — surely  'twas  the  first  white  infant  born 
in  the  great  valley." 

"And  the  most  unfortunate 

"Nay,  how  can  you  say  that,  since  you  have  come 
more  than  half  a  thousand  miles  and  are  all  safe 
and  sound  to-day  ?  Glad  enough  we  shall  be  to  have 
you  and  madame  with  us  for  the  winter,  if,  indeed, 
it  be  not  for  longer  dwelling.  I  can  not  take  you 
now  to  the  English  settlements,  since  I  must  back 
to  the  governor  with  the  news.  Yet  dull  enough 
you  would  find  these  Dutch  of  the  Hudson,  and  worse 
yet  the  blue-nosed  psalmodists  of  New  England. 
Much  better  for  you  and  your  good  lady  are  the  gayer 
capitals  of  New  France,  or  la  belle  France  itself, 
that  older  France.  Monsieur,  how  infinitely  more 
fit  for  a  gentleman  of  spirit  is  France  than  your 
dull  England  and  its  Dutch  king!  Either  New 
France  or  Old  France,  let  me  advise  you;  and  as  to 


272          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

that  new  West,  let  me  counsel  that  you  wait  until 
after  the  Big  Peace.  And,  in  speaking,  your  friend, 
Du  Mesne,  your  lieutenant,  the  coureur — his  fate, 
I  suppose,  one  need  not  ask.  He  was  killed — 
where?" 

Law  recounted  the  division  of  his  party  just  pre 
vious  to  the  Iroquois  attack,  and  added  his  concern 
lest  Du  Mesne  should  return  to  the  former  station 
during  the  spring  and  find  but  its  ruins,  with  no 
news  of  the  fate  of  his  friends. 

"Oh,  as  to  that — 'twould  be  but  the  old  story 
of  the  voyageurs"  said  Joncaire.  "They  are  used 
enough  to  journeying  a  thousand  miles  or  so, 
to  find  the  trail  end  in  a  heap  of  ashes,  and  to  the 
tune  of  a  scalp  dance.  Fear  not  for  your  lieuten 
ant,  for,  believe  me,  he  has  fended  for  himself  if 
there  has  been  need.  Yet  I  would  warrant  you,  now 
that  this  word  for  the  peace  has  gone  out,  we  shall 
see  your  friend  Du  Mesne  as  big  as  life  at  the 
Mountain  next  summer,  knowing  as  much  of  your 
history  as  you  yourself  do,  and  quite  counting  upon 
meeting  you  with  us  on  the  St.  Lawrence,  and 
madame  as  well.  As  to  that,  methinks  madame  Will 
be  better  with  us  on  the  St.  Lawrence  than  on  the 
savage  Messasebe.  We  have  none  too  many  damea 
among  iis,  and  I  need  not  state,  what  monsieur's 
eyes  have  told  him  every  morning — that  a  fairer 


THE   EMBASSY  273 

never  set  foot  from  ship  from  over  seas.  Witness  my 
lieutenant  yonder,  Raoul  de  Ligny!  He  is  thus 
soon  all  devotion !  Mother  of  God !  but  we  are  well 
met  here,  in  this  wilderness,  among  the  savages. 
Voila,  Monsieur!  We  take  you  again  captive,  and 
'tis  madame  enslaves  us  all !" 

There  had  indeed  ensued  conversation  between 
the  young  French  officer  above  named  and  Mary 
Connynge;  yet  prompt  as  might  have  been  the  for 
mer  with  gallant  attentions  to  so  fair  a  captive, 
it  could  not  have  been  said  that  he  was  allowed 
the  first  advances.  Mary  Connynge,  even  after  a 
month  of  starving  foot  travel  and  another  month 
of  anxiety  at  the  Iroquois  villages,  had  lost  neither 
her  rounded  body,  her  brilliance  of  eye  and  color, 
nor  her  subtle  magnetism  of  personality.  It  had 
taken  stronger  head  than  that  of  Raoul  de  Ligny 
to  withstand  even  her  slight  request.  How,  then, 
as  to  Mary  Connynge  supplicating,  entreating,  crav 
ing  of  him  protection  ? 

"Ah,  you  brave  Frenchmen,"  said  she  to  De  Ligny, 
advancing  to  him  as  he  stood  apart,  twisting  his 
mustaches  and  not  unmindful  of  this  very  possibil 
ity  of  a  conversation  with  the  captive.  "You  brave 
Frenchmen,  how  can  we  thank  you  for  our  salvation  ? 
It  was  all  so  horrible !" 

"It  is  our  duty  to  save  all,  Madame,"  rejoined 


274          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

De  Ligny;  "our  happiness  unspeakable  to  save  such 
as  Madame.  I  swear  by  my  sword,  I  had  as  soon 
expected  to  find  an  angel  with  the  Iroquois  as  to  meet 
there  Madame!  Quebec — all  Quebec  has  told  me 
who  Madame  was  and  is.  'And  I  am  your  slave." 

"Oh,  sir,  could  you  but  mean  that!"  and  there 
was  turned  upon  him  the  full  power  of  a  gaze  which 
few  men  had  ever  been  able  to  withstand.  The 
blood  of  De  Ligny  tingled  as  he  bowed  and  replied. 

"If  Madame  could  but  demand  one  proof." 

Mary  Connynge  stepped  closer  to  him.  "Hush!" 
she  said.  "Speak  low!  Do  not  let  it  seem  that 
we  are  interested.  Keep  your  own  counsel.  Can 
you  do  this?" 

The  eyes  of  the  young  officer  gleamed.  He  was 
bold  enough  to  respond.  This  his  temptress  noted. 

He  nodded. 

"You  see  that  man — the  tall  one,  John  Law?  Lis 
ten!  It  is  from  him  I  ask  you  to  save  me.  Oh, 
sir,  there  is  my  captivity!" 

"What!    Your  husband?" 

"He  is  not  my  husband." 

"Mais — a  thousand  pardons.  The  child — your 
pardon." 

"Pish!    'Tis  the  child  of  an  Indian  woman." 

"Oh!"  The  blood  again  came  to  the  young  gal 
lant's  forehead, 


THE  EMBASSY!  275 

"Listen,  I  tell  you!  I  have  been  scarce  better 
than  a  prisoner  in  this  man's  hands.  He  has  abused 
me,  threatened  me,  would  have  beaten  me — " 

"Madame — Mademoiselle !" 

"'Tis  true.  We  have  been  far  in  the  West,  and 
I  could  not  escape.  Good  Providence  has  now 
brought  my  rescue — and  you,  Monsieur!  Oh!  tell 
me  that  it  has  brought  me  safety,  and  also  a  friend 
— that  it  has  brought  me  you !" 

With  every  pulse  a-tingle,  every  vein  afire,  what 
could  the  young  gallant  do?  What  but  yield,  but 
promise,  but  swear,  but  rage? 

"Hush!"  said  Mary  Connynge,  her  own  eyes 
gleaming.  "Wait!  The  time  will  come.  So  soon 
as  we  reach  the  settlements,  I  leave  him,  and  for 
ever  !  Then — "  Their  hands  met  swiftly.  "He  has 
abandoned  me,"  murmured  Mary  Connynge.  "He 
has  not  spoken  to  me  for  weeks,  other  than  words  of 
Tea/  or  <JSTo,'  'Do  this/  or  T>o  that !»  Wait !  Wait ! 
How  soon- shall  we  be  at  Montreal?" 

"Less  than  a  month.  'Twill  seem  an  age,  I 
swear !" 

"Madam,"  interrupted  Law,  "pardon,  but  Mon 
sieur  Joncaire  bids  us  be  ready.  Come,  help  me  ar 
range  the  packs  for  our  journey.  Perhaps  Lieuten 
ant  de  Ligny — for  so  I  think  they  name  you,  sir 


276          THE    MISSISSIPPI  BUBBLE 

— will  pardon  us,  and  will  consent  to  resume  his 
conversation  later." 

"Assuredly/'  said  De  Ligny.  "I  shall  wait,  Mon 
sieur." 

"So,  Madam,"  said  Law  to  Mary  Connynge,  as 
they  at  last  found  themselves  alone  in  the  lodge, 
arranging  their  few  belongings  for  transport,  "we 
are  at  last  to  regain  the  settlements,  and  for  a  time, 
at  least,  must  forego  our  home  in  the  farther  West. 
In  time — " 

"OK,  in  time!     What  mean  you?" 

"Why,  we  may  return." 

"Never!  I  have  had  my  fill  of  savaging.  That 
we  are  left  alive  is  mighty  merciful.  To  go  thither 
again — never !" 

"And  if  I  go?" 

"As  you  like." 

"Meaning,  Madam — '?" 

"What  you  like." 

Law  seated  himself  on  the  corded  pack,  bringing 
the  tips  of  his  fingers  together. 

"Then  my  late  sweetheart  has  somewhat  changed 
her  fancy?" 

"I  have  no  fancy  left.  What  I  was  once  to  you 
I  shall  not  recall  more  than  I  can  avoid  in  my 
own  mind.  As  to  what  you  heard  from  that  lying 
man,  Sir  Arthur — " 


THE   EMBASSY]  377 

'listen!  Stop!  Neither  must  you  insult  the 
'dead  nor  the  absent.  I  have  never  told  you  what 
I  learned  from  Sir  Arthur,  though  it  was  enough 
to  set  me  well  distraught." 

"I  doubt  not  that  he  told  you  'twas  I  who  be 
fooled  Lady  Catharine;  that  'twas  I  who  took  the 
letter  which  you  sent — " 

"Stay!  No.  He  told  me  not  so  much  as  that. 
But  he  and  you  together  have  told  me  enough  to 
show  me  that  I  was  the  basest  wretch  on  earth,  the 
most  gullible,  the  most  unspeakably  false  and  cruel. 
How  could  I  have  doubted  the  faith  of  Lady  Catha 
rine — how,  but  for  you  ?  Oh,  Mary  Connynge,  Mary 
Connynge!  Would  God  a  man  were  so  fashioned 
he  might  better  withstand  the  argument  of  soft 
flesh  and  shining  eyes !  I  admit,  I  believed  the  dis 
loyal  one,  and  doubted  her  who  was  loyalty  itself." 

"And  you  would  go  back  into  the  wilderness  with 
one  who  was  as  false  as  you  say." 

"Never !"  replied  John  Law,  swiftly.  "  'Tis  as  you 
yourself  say.  'Tis  all  over.  Hell  itself  hath  fol 
lowed  me.  Now  let  it  all  go,  one  with  the  other, 
little  with  big.  I  did  not  forget,  nor  should  I 
though  I  tried  again.  Back  to  Europe,  back  to  the 
gaming  tables,  to  the  wheels  and  cards  I  go  again, 
and  plunge  into  it  madder  than  ever  did  man  be 
fore.  Let  us  see  if  chance  can  bring  John  Law 


278          THE   MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

anything  worse  than  what  he  has  already  known. 
But,  Madam,  doubt  not.  So  long  as  you  claim 
my  protection,  here  or  anywhere  on  earth — in  the 
West,  in  France,  in  England — it  is  yours;  for  I 
pay  for  my  folly  like  a  man,  he  assured  of  that. 
The  child  is  ours,  and  it  must  be  considered.  But 
once  let  me  find  you  in  unfaithfulness — once  let 
me  know  that  you  resign  me — then  John  Law  is 
free !  I  shall  sometime  see  Catharine  Knollys  again. 
I  shall  give  her  my  heart's  anguish,  and  I  shall 
have  her  heart's  scorn  in  return.  And  then,  Mary 
Connynge,  the  cards,  dice,  perhaps  drink — perhaps 
gold,  and  the  end.  Madam,  remember!  And  now 
come  I" 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  GREAT  PEACE 

Of  the  long  and  bitter  journey  from  the  Iroquois 
towns  to  Lake  St.  George,  down  the  Richelieu  and 
thence  through  the  deep  snows  of  the  Canadian  win 
ter,  it  boots  little  to  make  mention;  neither  to  tell 
of  that  devotion  of  Raoul  de  Ligny  to  the  newly- 
rescued  lady,  already  reputed  in  camp  rumor  to 
be  of  noble  English  family. 

"That  sous-lieutenant;  he  is  tete  montee  regarding 
madame,"  said  Pierre  Noir  one  evening  to  Jean 
Brebceuf.  "As  to  that — well,  you  know  Monsieur 
L'as.  Pouf !  So  much  for  yon  monkey,  par  com- 
paraison" 

"He  is  a  great  capitaine,  Monsieur  L'as,"  said 
Jean  Breboeuf.  "Never  a  better  went  beyond  the 
Straits." 

"But  very  sad  of  late." 

"Oh,  oui,  since  the  death  of  his  friend,  Monsieur 
%e  Capitaine  Pembroke — may  Mary  aid  his  spirit !" 

"Monsieur  L'as  goes  not  on  the  trail  again,"  said 
(279) 


280          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

Pierre  Noir.     "At  least  not  while  this  look  is  in  his 
eye." 

"The  more  the  loss,  Pierre  Noir ;  but  some  day  the 
woods  will  call  to  him  again.  I  know  not  how  long 
it  may  be,  yet  some  day  Mother  Messasebe  will  raise 
her  finger  and  beckon  to  Monsieur  L'as,  and  say: 
'Come,  my  son!'  'Tis  thus,  as  you  know,  Pierre 
Noir." 

Yet  at  length  the  straggling  settlements  at  Mon 
treal  were  reached,  and  here,  after  the  fashion  of 
the  frontier,  some  sort  of  menage  was  inaugurated 
for  Law  and  his  party.  Here  they  lived  through 
the  rest  of  the  winter  and  through  the  long,  slow 
spring. 

And  then  set  on  again  the  heats  of  summer,  and 
there  came  apace  the  time  agreed  upon,  in  the 
month  of  August,  for  the  widely  heralded  assem 
bling  of  the  tribes  for  the  Great  Peace;  one  of  the 
most  picturesque,  as  it  was  one  of  the  most  re 
markable  and  significant  meetings  of  widely  diverse 
human  beings,  that  ever  took  place  within  the  ken  of 
history. 

:  They  came,  these  savages,  now  first  owning  the 
strength  of  the  invading  white  men,  from  all  the 
far  and  unknown  corners  of  the  Western  wilderness. 
They  came  afoot,  and  with  little  trains  of  dogs, 
in  single  canoes,  in  little  groups  and  growing  flotil- 


THE    GEEAT    PEACE  281 

las  and  vast  fleets  of  canoes,  pushing  on  and  on, 
down  stream,  following  the  tide  of  the  furs  down 
this  pathway  of  more  than  a  thousand  miles.  The 
Iroquois,  for  once  mindful  of  a  promise,  came  in 
a  compact  fleet,  a  hundred  canoes  strong,  and  they 
stalked  about  the  island  for  days,  naked,  stark, 
gigantic,  contemptuous  of  white  and  red  men,  of 
friend  and  foe  alike.  The  scattered  Algonquins, 
whose  villages  had  been  razed  by  these  same  sav 
age  warriors,  came  down  by  scores  out  of  the  North 
ern  woods,  along  little,  unknown  streams,  and  over 
paths  with  which  none  but  themselves  were  ac 
quainted.  From  the  North,  group  joined  group, 
and  village  added  itself  to  village,  until  a  vast  body 
of  people  had  assembled,  whose  numbers  would 
have  been  hard  to  estimate,  and  who  proved  difficult 
enough  to  accommodate.  Yet  from  the  farther  West, 
adding  their  numbers  to  those  already  gathered,  came 
the  fleets  of  the  driven  Hurons,  and  the  Ojibways, 
and  the  Miamis,  and  the  Outagamies,  and  the  Ot- 
tawas,  the  Menominies  and  the  Mascoutins — even 
the  Illini,  late  objects  of  the  wrath  of  the  Five 
Nations.  The  whole  Western  wilderness  poured 
forth  its  savage  population,  till  all  the  shores  of  the 
St.  Lawrence  seemed  one  vast  aboriginal  encamp 
ment.  These  massed  at  the  rendezvous  about  the 
puny  settlement  of  Montreal  in  such  numbers  that, 


282          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

in  comparison,  the  white  population  seemed  insig 
nificant.  Then,  had  there  been  a  Pontiac  or  a  Te- 
cumseh,  had  there  been  one  leader  of  the  tribes 
able  to  teach  the  strength  of  unity,  the  white  set 
tlements  of  tipper  America  had  indeed  been  utterly 
destroyed.  Naught  but  ancient  tribal  jealousies  held 
the  savages  apart. 

With  these  tribesmen  were  many  prisoners,  cap 
tives  taken  in  raids  all  along  the  thin  and  strag 
gling  frontier;  farmers  and  artisans,  peasants  and 
soldiers,  women  raped  from  the  farms  of  the  Riche 
lieu  censitaires,  and  wood-rangers  now  grown  sav 
age  as  their  captors  and  loth  to  leave  the  wild  life 
into  which  they  had  so  naturally  grown.  It  was 
the  first  reflex  of  the  wave,  and  even  now  the  bits 
of  flotsam  and  jetsam  of  wild  life  were  fain  to 
cling  to  the  Western  shore  whither  they  had  been 
carried  by  the  advancing  flood.  This  was  the 
meeting  of  the  ebb  with  the  sea  that  sent  it  forward, 
the  meeting  of  civilized  and  savage;  and  strange 
enough  was  the  nature  of  those  confluent  tides. 
Whether  the  red  men  were  yielding  to  civilization, 
or  the  whites  all  turning  savage — this  question  might 
well  have  arisen  to  an  observer  of  this  tremendous 
spectacle.  The  wigwams  of  the  different  tribes  and 
clans  and  families  were  grouped  apart,  scattered 
along  all  the  narrow  shore  back  of  the  great  hill, 


THE    GKEAT   PEACE  283 

and  over  the  Convent  gardens;  and  among  these 
stalked  the  native  French,  clad  in  coarse  cloth  of  blue, 
with  gaudy  belt  and  buckskins,  and  cap  of  fur  and 
moccasins  of  hide,  mingling  fraternally  with  their 
tufted  and  bepainted  visitors,  as  well  as  with  those 
rangers,  both  envied  and  hated,  the  savage  coureurs 
de  bois  of  the  far  Northern  fur  trade ;  men  bearded, 
silent,  stern,  clad  in  breech-clout  and  leggings  like 
any  savage,  as  silent,  as  stoical,  as  hardy  on  the 
trail  as  on  the  narrow  thwart  of  the  canoe. 

Savage  feastings,  riotings  and  drunkenness,  and 
long  debaucheries  came  with  the  Great  Peace,  when 
once  the  word  had  gone  out  that  the  fur  trade  was 
to  be  resumed.  Henceforth  there  was  to  be  peace. 
The  French  were  no  longer  to  raid  the  little  cabins 
along  the  Kennebec  and  the  Penobscot.  The  river 
Eichelieu  was  to  be  no  longer  a  red  war  trail.  The 
English  were  no  longer  to  offer  arms  and  blankets 
for  the  beaver,  belonging  by  right  of  prior  discovery 
to  those  who  offered  French  brandy  and  French 
beads.  The  Iroquois  were  no  longer  to  pursue  a 
timid  foe  across  the  great  prairies  of  the  valley  of 
the  Messasebe.  The  Ojibways  were  not  to  ambush 
the  scattered  parties  of  the  Iroquois.  The  unam 
bitious  colonists  of  New  England  and  New  York 
were  to  be  left  to  till  their  stony  farms  in  quiet. 
Meantime,  the  fur  trade,  wasteful,  licentious,  un- 


284          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

profitable,  was  to  extend  onward  and  outward  in 
all  the  marches  of  the  West.  From  one  end  of  the 
Great  River  of  the  West  to  the  other  the  insignia 
of  France  and  of  France's  king  were  to  be  erected, 
and  France's  posts  were  to  hold  all  the  ancient 
trails.  Even  at  the  mouth  of  the  Great  River,  fore 
stalling  these  sullen  English  and  these  sluggish 
English  colonists,  far  to  the  south  in  the  somber 
forests  and  miasmatic  marshes,  there  was  to  be 
established  one  more  ruling  point  for  the  arms  of 
Louis  the  Grand.  It  was  a  great  game  this,  for 
which  the  continent  of  America  was  in  preparation. 
It  was  a  mighty  thing,  this  gathering  of  the  Great 
Peace,  this  time  when  colonists  and  their  king  were 
seeing  the  first  breaking  of  the  wave  on  the  shore 
of  an  empire  alluring,  wonderful,  unparalleled. 

Into  this  wild  rabble  of  savages  and  citizens,  of 
priest  and  soldier  and  coureur,  Law's  friends,  Pierre 
Noir  and  Jean  Brebceuf,  swiftly  disappeared,  natur 
ally,  fitly  and  unavoidably.  "The  West  is  calling 
to  us,  Monsieur,"  said  Pierre  Noir  one  morning, 
as  he  stood  looking  out  across  the  river.  "I  hear 
once  more  the  spirits  of  the  Messasebe.  Monsieur, 
will  you  come?" 

Law  shook  his  head.  Yet  two  days  later,  as  he 
stood  at  that  very  point,  there  came  to  him  the 
silent  feet  of  two  coureurs  instead  of  one.  Once 


THE    GEEAT   PEACE  285 

more  he  heard  in  his  ear  the  question:  "Monsieur 
L'as,  will  you  come?" 

At  this  voice  he  started.  In  an  instant  his  arms 
•were  about  the  neck  of  Du  Mesne,  and  tears  were 
falling  from  the  eyes  of  both  in  the  welcome  of  that 
brotherhood  which  is  admitted  only  by  those  who 
have  known  together  arms  and  danger  and  hard 
ship,  the  touch  of  the  hard  ground  and  the  sight 
of  the  wide  blue  sky. 

<T)u  Mesne,  my  friend!" 

"Monsieur  L'as !" 

"It  is  as  though  you  came  from  the  depths  of  the 
sea,  Du  Mesne !"  said  Law. 

"And  as  though  you  yourself  arose  from  the  grave, 
Monsieur !" 

"How  did  you  know — ?" 

"Why,  easily.  You  do  not  yet  understand  the 
ways  of  the  wilderness,  where  news  travels  as  fast 
as  in  the  cities.  You  were  hardly  below  the  foot 
of  Michiganon  before  runners  from  the  Illini  had 
spread  the  news  along  the  Chicaqua,  where  I  was 
then  in  camp.  For  the  rest,  the  runners  brought 
also  news  of  the  Big  Peace.  I  reasoned  that  the 
Iroquois  would  not  dare  to  destroy  their  captives, 
that  in  time  the  agents  of  the  Government  would 
receive  the  captives  of  the  Iroquois — that  these  cap 
tives  would  naturally  come  to  the  settlements  on 


286  THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

the  St.  Lawrence,  since  it  was  the  French  against 
whom  the  Iroquois  had  been  at  war;  that  having 
come  to  Montreal,  you  would  naturally  remain  here 
for  a  time.  The  rest  was  easy.  I  fared  on  to  the 
Straits  this  spring,  and  then  on  down  the  Lakes. 
I  have  sold  our  furs,  and  am  now  ready  to  account 
to  you  with  a  sum  quite  as  much  as  we  should  have 
expected. 

"Now,  Monsieur,"  and  Du  Mesne  stretched  out 
his  arm  again,  pointing  to  the  down-coming  flood  of 
the  St.  Lawrence,  "Monsieur,  will  you  come?  I 
see  not  the  St.  Lawrence,  but  the  Messasebe.  I  can 
hear  the  voices  calling!" 

Law  dashed  his  hand  across  his  eyes  and  turned 
his  head  away.  "Not  yet,  Du  Mesne,"  said  he.  "I 
do  not  know.  Not  yet.  I  must  first  go  across  the 
waters.  Perhaps  sometime — I  can  not  tell.  But 
this,  my  comrades,  my  brothers,  I  do  know;  that 
never,  until  the  last  sod  lies  on  my  grave,  will 
I  forget  the  Messasebe,  or  forget  you.  Go  back, 
if  you  will,  my  brothers;  but  at  night,  when  you 
sit  by  your  fireside,  think  of  me,  as  I  shall  think 
of  you,  there  in  the  great  valley.  My  friends,  it 
is  the  heart  of  the  world !" 

"But,  Monsieur—" 

"There,  Du  Mesne — I  would  not  talk  to-day. 
'At  another  time.  Brothers,  adieu !" 


THE    GEEAT    PEACE  287 

"Adieu,  my  brother,"  said  the  coureur,  his  own 
emotion  showing  in  his  eyes;  and  their  hands  met 
again. 

"Monsieur  is  cast  down,"  said  Du  Mesne  to  Pierre 
Noir  later,  as  they  reached  the  beach.  "Now,  what 
think  you  ? 

"Usually,  as  you  know,  Pierre,  it  is  a  question 
of  some  woman.  It  reminds  me,  Wabana  was  re 
miss  enough  when  I  left  her  among  the  Illini  with 
you.  Now,  God  bless  my  heart,  I  find  her — how 
think  you?  With  her  crucifix  lost,  cooking  for  a 
dirty  Ojibway!" 

"Mary  Mother!"  said  Pierre  Noir,  "if  it  be  a 
matter  of  a  woman — well,  God  help  us  all !  At  least 
'tis  something  that  will  take  Monsieur  L'as  over 
seas  again." 

"'Tis  mostly  a  woman,"  mused  Du  Mesne;  "but 
this  passeth  my  wit." 

"True,  they  pass  the  wit  of  all.  Now,  did  I 
ever  tell  thee  about  the  mission  girl  at  Miehili- 
mackinac — but  stay !  That  for  another  time.  They 
tell  me  that  our  comrade,  Greysolon  du  L'hut,  is  ex 
pected  in  to-morrow  with  a  party  from  the  far 
end  of  Superior.  Come,  let  us  have  the  news." 

"Tons  Us  printemps, 
Tant  des  nouvelles" 


288          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

hummed  Du  Mesne,  as  he  flung  his  arm  above  the 
shoulder  of  the  other;  and  the  two  so  disappeared 
adown  the  beach. 

i  Dully,  apathetically,  Law  lived  on  his  life  here 
at  Montreal  for  yet  a  time,  at  the  edge  of  that 
wilderness  which  had  proved  all  else  but  Eden. 
Near  to  him,  though  in  these  guarded  times  guest 
by  necessity  of  the  good  sisters  of  the  Convent,  dwelt 
Mary  Connynge.  And  as  for  these  two,  it  might 
be  said  that  each  but  bided  the  time.  To  her 
Law  might  as  well  have  been  one  of  the  corded 
Sulpician  priests;  and  she  to  him,  for  all  he  liked, 
one  of  the  nuns  of  the  Convent  garden.  What  did 
it  all  mean ;  where  was  it  all  to  end  ?  he  asked  him 
self  a  thousand  times;  and  a  thousand  times  his 
mind  failed  him  of  any  answer.  He  waited,  watch 
ing  the  great  encampment  disappear,  first  slowly, 
then  swiftly  and  suddenly,  so  that  in  a  night  the 
last  of  the  lodges  had  gone  and  the  last  canoe  had 
left  the  shore.  There  remained  only  the  hurrying 
flood  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  coming  from  the  West. 

The  autumn  came  on.  Early  in  November  the 
ships  would  leave  for  France.  Yet  before  the  begin 
ning  of  November  there  came  swiftly  and  sharply  the 
settlement  of  the  questions  which  racked  Law's 
mind.  One  morning  Mary  Connynge  was  missing 
from  the  Convent,  nor  could  any  of  the  sisters,  nor 


THE    GREAT   PEACE  289 

the  mother  superior,  explain  how  or  when  she  had 
departed ! 

Yet,  had  there  been  close  observers,  there  might 
have  been  seen  a  boat  dropping  down  the  river  on 
the  early  morning  of  that  day.  And  at  Quebec 
there  was  later  reported  in  the  books  of  the  intendant 
the  shipping,  upon  the  good  bark  Dauphine,  of  Lieu 
tenant  Eaoul  de  Ligny,  sometime  officer  of  the  regi 
ment  Carignan,  formerly  stationed  in  New  France; 
with  him  a  lady  recently  from  Montreal,  known 
very  well  to  Lieutenant  de  Ligny  and  his  family; 
and  to  be  in  his  care  en  voyage  to  France ;  the  name 
of  said  lady  illegible  upon  the  records,  the  spelling 
apparently  not  having  suited  the  clerk  who  wrote 
it,  and  then  forgot  it  in  the  press  of  other  things. 

Certain  of  the  governor's  household,  as  well  as  two 
or  three  habitants  from  the  lower  town,  witnessed 
the  arrival  of  this  lady,  who  came  down  from  Mon 
treal.  They  saw  her  take  boat  for  the  bark  Dau 
phine,  one  of  the  last  ships  to  go  down  the  river 
that  fall.  Yes,  it  was  easily  to  be  established. 
Dark,  with  singular,  brown  eyes,  petite,  yet  not  over 
small,  of  good  figure — assuredly  so  much  could 
be  said;  for  obviously  the  king,  kindly  as  he  might 
feel  toward  the  colony  of  New  France,  could  not 
send  out,  among  the  young  women  supplied  to  the 
colonists  as  wives,  very  many  such  demoiselles  as 


290          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

this;  otherwise  assuredly  all  France  would  have 
followed  the  king's  ships  to  the  St.  Lawrence. 

John  Law,  a  grave  and  saddened  man,  yet  one 
now  no  longer  lacking  in  decision,  stood  alone  one 
day  at  the  parapet  of  the  great  rock  of  Quebec, 
gazing  down  the  broad  expanse  of  the  stream  below. 
He  was  alone  except  for  a  little  child,  a  child  too 
young  to  know  her  mother,  had  death  or  disaster 
at  that  time  removed  the  mother.  Law  took  the 
little  one  up  in  his  arms  and  gazed  hard  upon  the 
upturned  face. 

"Catharine !"  .  he  said  to  himself.  "Catharine ! 
Catharine !" 

"Pardon,  Monsieur,"  said  a  voice  at  his  elbow. 
"Surely  I  have  seen  you  before  this?" 

Law  turned.  Joncaire,  the  ambassador  of  peace, 
stood  by,  smiling  and  extending  his  hand. 

"Naturally,  I  could  never  forget  you,"  said  Law. 

"Monsieur  looks  at  the  shipping,"  said  Joncaire, 
smiling.  "Surely  he  would  not  be  leaving  New 
France,  after  so  luckily  escaping  the  worst  of  her 
dangers  ?" 

"Life  might  be  the  same  for  me  over  there  as 
here,"  replied  Law.  "As  for  my  luck,  I  must  declare 
myself  the  most  unfortunate  man  on  earth." 

"Your  wife,  perhaps,  is  ill?" 

"Pardon,  I  have  none." 


THE    GEEAT    PEACE  291 

"Pardon,  in  turn,  Monsieur — but,  you  see — the 
child?" 

"It  is  the  child  of  a  savage  woman,"  said  Law. 

Joncaire  pulled  aside  the  infant's  hood.  He  gave 
no  sign,  and  a  nice  indifference  sat  in  his  query: 
"Une  belle  sauvage?" 

"Belle  sauvagel" 


BOOK  III 
FRANCE 


CHAPTEE  I 

THE    GRAND    MONAEQUE 

On  a  great  bed  of  state,  satin  draped,  flanked 
with  ancient  tapestries,  piled  sickeningly  soft  with 
heaps  of  pillows,  there  lay  a  thin,  withered  lit 
tle  man — old,  old  and  very  feeble.  His  face  was 
shrunken  and  drawn  with  pain ;  his  eyes,  once  bright, 
were  dulled;  his  brow,  formerly  imperious,  had  lost 
its  arrogance.  Under  the  coverings  which,  in  the 
unrest  of  illness,  he  now  pulled  high  about  his  face, 
now  tossed  restlessly  aside,  his  figure  lay,  an  elon 
gated,  shapeless  blot,  scarce  showing  beneath  the 
silks.  One  limb,  twitched  and  drawn  up  convul 
sively,  told  of  a  definite  seat  of  pain.  The  hands, 
thin  and  wasted,  lay  out  upon  the  coverlets;  and 
the  thumbs  were  creeping,  creeping  ever  more  insist 
ently,  under  the  cover  of  the  fingers,  telling  that 
the  battle  for  life  was  lost,  that  the  surrender  had 
been  made. 

It  was  a  death-bed,  this  great  bed  of  state;  a 
death-bed  situated  in  the  heart  of  the  greatest  tem 
ple  of  desire  ever  built  in  all  the  world.  He  who 
(295) 


296          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

had  been  master  there,  who  had  set  in  order  those 
miles  of  stately  columns,  those  seas  of  glittering 
gilt  and  crystal,  he  who  had  been  magician,  builder, 
creator,  perverter,  debaser — he,  Louis  of  Prance,  the 
Grand  Monarque,  now-  lay  suffering  like  any  ordinary 
human  being,  like  any  common  man. 

Last  night  the  four  and  twenty  violins,  under 
the  king's  command,  had  shrilled  their  chorus,  as 
had  been  their  wont  for  years  while  the  master  dined. 
This  morning  the  cordon  of  drums  and  hautboys  had 
pealed  their  high  and  martial  music.  Useless.  The 
one  or  the  other  music  fell  upon  ears  too  dull  to 
hear.  The  formal  tribute  to  the  central  soul  for 
a  time  continued  of  its  own  inertia ;  for  a  time  royalty 
had  still  its  worship ;  yet  the  custom  was  but  a  lag 
ging  one.  The  musicians  grimaced  and  made  what 
discord  they  liked,  openly,  insolently,  scorning  this 
weak  and  withered  figure  on  the  silken  bed.  The 
cordon  of  the  white  and  blue  guards  of  the  House 
hold  still  swept  about  the  vast  pleasure  grounds 
of  this  fairy  temple;  yet  the  officers  left  their  posts 
and  conversed  one  with  the  other.  Musicians  and 
guards,  spectators  and  populace,  all  were  waiting, 
waiting  until  the  end  should  come.  Farther  out 
and  beyond,  where  the  peaked  roofs  of  Paris  rose, 
back  of  that  line  which  this  imperious  mind  had 
decreed  should  not  be  passed  by  the  dwellings  of 


297 


Paris,  which  must  not  come  too  near  this  temple 
of  luxury,  nor  disturb  the  king  while  he  enjoyed 
himself — back  of  the  perfunctorily  loyal  guards  of 
the  Household,  there  reached  the  ragged,  shapeless 
masses  of  the  people  of  Paris  and  of  France,  wait 
ing,  smiling,  as  some  animal  licking  its  chops  in 
expectation  of  some  satisfying  thing.  They  were 
waiting  for  news  of  the  death  of  this  shrunken  man, 
this  creature  once  so  full  of  arrogant  lust,  then  so 
full  of  somber  repentance,  now  so  full  of  the  very 
taste  of  death. 

On  the  great  tapestry  that  hung  above  the  head 
of  the  curtained  bed  shone  the  double  sun  of  Louis 
the  Grand,  which  had  meant  death  and  devastation 
to  so  much  of  Europe.  It  blazed,  mimicking  the 
glory  that  was  gone;  but  toward  it  there  was  raised 
no  sword  nor  scepter  more  in  vow  or  exaltation. 
The  race  was  run,  the  sun  was  sinking  to  its  setting. 
Nothing  but  a  man — a  weary,  worn-out,  dying  man — 
was  Louis,  the  Grand  Monarque,  king  for  seventy-two 
years  of  France,  almost  king  of  Europe.  This  death 
bed  lay  in  the  center  of  a  land  oppressed,  ground 
down,  impoverished.  The  hearts  and  lives  of  thou 
sands  were  in  these  colonnades.  The  people  had  paid 
for  their  king.  They  had  fed  him  fat  and  kept 
him  full  of  loves.  In  return,  he  had  trampled  the 
people  into  the  very  dust.  He  had  robbed  even 


298          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

their  ancient  nobles  of  honors  and  consideration. 
Blackened,  ruined,  a  vast  graveyard,  a  monumental 
starving-ground,  France  lay  about  his  death-bed,  and 
its  people  were  but  waiting  with  grim  impatience 
for  their  king  to  die.  What  France  might  do  in 
the  future  was  unknown;  yet  it  was  unthinkable 
that  aught  could  be  worse  than  this  glorious  reign  of 
Louis,  the  Grand  Monarque,  this  crumbling  clod, 
this  resolving  excrescence,  this  phosphorescent,  dis 
integrating  fungus  of  a  diseased  life  and  time. 

Seventy-two  years  a  king ;  thirty  years  a  libertine ; 
twenty  years  a  repentant.  Son,  grandson,  great- 
grandson,  all  gone,  as  though  to  leave  not  one  of 
that  once  haughty  breed.  For  France  no  hope  at 
all;  and  for  the  house  of  Bourbon,  all  the  hope 
there  might  be  in  the  life  of  a  little  boy,  sullen, 
tiny,  timid.  Far  over  in  Paris,  busy  about  his  games 
and  his  loves,  a  jesting,  long-curled  gallant,  the 
Duke  of  Orleans,  nephew  of  this  king,  was  holding 
a  court  of  his  own.  And  from  this  court  which 
might  be,  back  to  the  court  which  was,  but  which 
might  not  be  long,  swung  back  and  forth  the  fawn 
ing  creatures  of  the  former  court.  This  was  the 
central  picture  of  France,  and  Paris,  and  of  the 
New  World  on  this  day  of  the  year  1715. 

In  the  room  about  the  bed  of  state,  uncertain 
groups  of  watchers  whispered  noisily.  The  five 


THE    GRAND    MONARQUE  299 

physicians,  who  had  tried  first  one  remedy  and  then 
another;  the  rustic  physician  whose  nostrum  had 
kept  life  within  the  king  for  some  unexpected  days ; 
the  ladies  who  had  waited  upon  the  relatives  of  the 
king;  some  of  the  relatives  themselves;  Villeroy, 
guardian  of  the  young  king  soon  to  be;  the  bastard, 
and  the  wife  of  that  bastard,  who  hoped  for  the 
king's  shoes;  the  mistress  of  his  earlier  years,  for 
many  years  his  wife — Maintenon,  that  peerless 
hypocrite  of  all  the  years — all  these  passed,  and 
hesitated,  and  looked,  waiting,  as  did  the  hungry 
crowds  in  Paris  toward  the  Seine,  until  the  double 
sun  should  set,  and  the  crawling  thumbs  at  last 
should  find  their  shelter.  The  Grand  Monarque  was 
losing  the  only  time  in  all  his  life  when  he  might 
have  learned  human  wisdom. 

"Madame!"  whispered  the  dry  lips,  faintly. 

She  who  was  addressed  as  madame,  this  woman 
Maintenon,  pious  murderer,  unrivaled  hypocrite, 
unspeakably  self-contained  dissembler,  the  woman 
who  lost  for  France  an  empire  greater  than  all 
France,  stepped  now  to  the  bed-side  of  the  dying 
monarch,  inclining  her  head  to  hear  what  he  might 
have  to  say.  Was  Maintenon,  the  outcast,  the  widow, 
the  wife  of  the  king,  at  last  to  be  made  ruler  of  the 
Church  in  France  ?  Was  she  to  govern  in  the  house 
hold  of  the  king  even  after  the  king  had  departed? 


300          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

The  woman  bent  over  the  dying  man,  the  covetous- 
ness  of  her  soul  showing  in  her  eyes,  struggle  as 
she  might  to  retain  her  habitual  and  unparalleled 
self-control. 

The  dying  man  muttered  uneasily.  His  mind 
was  clouded,  his  eyes  saw  other  things.  He  turned 
back  to  earlier  days,  when  life  was  bright,  when 
he,  Louis,  as  a  young  man,  had  lived  and  loved  as 
any  other. 

"Louise,"  he  murmured.  "Louise !  Forgive ! 
Meet  me — -Louise — dear  one.  Meet  me  yonder — " 

An  icy  pallor  swept  across  the  face  of  the  arch 
hypocrite  who  bent  over  him.  Into  her  soul  there 
sank  like  a  knife  this  consciousness  of  the  undying 
power  of  a  real  love.  La  Valliere,  the  love  of  the 
youth  of  Louis,  La  Valliere,  the  beautiful,  and  sweet, 
and  womanly,  dead  and  gone  these  long  years  since, 
but  still  loved  and  now  triumphant — she  it  was 
whom  Louis  now  remembered. 

Maintenon  turned  from  the  bed-side.  She  stood, 
an  aged  and  unhappy  woman,  old,  gray  and  hag 
gard,  not  success  but  failure  written  upon  every 
lineament.  For  one  instant  she  stood,  her  hands 
clenched,  slow  anger  breaking  through  the  mask 
which,  for  a  quarter  of  a  century,  she  had  so  suc 
cessfully  worn. 

"Bah!"  she  cried.     "Bah!     'Tis  a  pretty  rendez- 


THE    GRAND    MONARQUE  301 

vous  this  king  would  set  for  me!"  And  then  she 
swept  from  the  room,  raged  for  a  time  apart,  and 
so  took  leave  of  life  and  of  ambition. 

At  length  even  the  last  energies  of  the  once  stub 
born  will  gave  way.  The  last  gasp  of  the  failing 
breath  was  drawn.  The  herald  at  the  window  an 
nounced  to  the  waiting  multitude  that  Louis  the 
Fourteenth  was  no  more. 

"Long  live  the  king!"  exclaimed  the  multitude. 
They  hailed  the  new  monarch  with  mockery;  but 
laughter,  and  sincere  joy  and  feasting  were  the  tes 
timonials  of  their  emotions  at  the  death  of  the  king 
but  now  departed. 

On  the  next  day  a  cheap,  tawdry  and  unimposing 
procession  wended  its  way  through  the  back  streets 
of  Paris,  its  leader  seeking  to  escape  even  the  edges 
of  the  mob,  lest  the  people  should  fall  upon  the 
somber  little  pageant  and  rend  it  into  fragments. 
This  was  the  funeral  cortege  of  Louis,  the  Grand 
Monarque,  Louis  the  lustful,  Louis  the  bigot,  Louis 
the  ignorant,  Louis  the  unhappy.  They  hurried  him 
to  his  resting-place,  these  last  servitors,  and  then 
hastened  back  to  the  palaces  to  join  their  hearts 
and  voices  to  the  rising  wave  of  joy  which  swept 
across  all  France  at  the  death  of  this  beloved 
ruler. 

Now  it  happened  that,  as  the1  funeral  procession 


302          THE    MISSISSIPPI  .BUBBLE 

of  the  king  was  hurrying  through  the  side  streets 
near  the  confines  of  the  old  city  of  Paris,  there 
encountered  it,  entering  from  the  great  highway 
which  led  from  the  east  up  to  the  city  gates,  the 
carriage  of  a  gentleman  who  might,  apparently  with 
justice,  have  laid  some  claim  to  consequence.  It 
had  its  guards  and  coachmen,  and  was  attended  by 
two  riders  in  livery,  who  kept  it  company  along  the 
narrow  streets.  This  equipage  met  the  head  of  the 
hurrying  funeral  cortege,  and  found  occasion  for 
a  moment  to  pause.  Thus  there  passed,  the  one 
going  to  his  grave,  the  other  to  his  goal,  the  two 
men  with  whom  the  France  of  that  day  was  most 
intimately  concerned. 

There  came  from  the  window  of  the  coach  the 
voice  of  one  inquiring  the  reason  of  the  halt,  and 
there  might  have  been  seen  through  the  upper  por 
tion  of  the  vehicle's  door  the  face  of  the  owner  of 
the  carriage.  He  seemed  a  man  of  imposing  pres 
ence,  with  face  open  and  handsome,  and  an  eye 
bright,  bold  and  full  of  intelligence.  His  garb  was 
rich  and  elegant,  his  air  well  contained  and  dig 
nified. 

"Guillaume,"  he  called  out,  "what  is  it  that  de 
tains  us?" 

"It  is  nothing,  Monsieur  L'as,"  was  the  reply. 
"They  tell  me  it  is  but  the  funeral  of  the  king." 


303 


"Eh  bien!"  replied  Law,  turning  to  one  who  sat 
beside  him  in  the  coach.  "Nothing!  'Tis  nothing 
but  the  funeral  of  the  king!" 


CHAPTER  II 

EVEE  SAID   SHE   NAY 

The  coach  proceeded  steadily  on  its  way,  passing 
in  toward  that  quarter  where  the  high-piled,  peaked 
roofs  and  jagged  spires  betokened  ancient  Paris. 
On  every  hand  arose  confused  sounds  from  the 
streets,  now  filled  with  a  populace  merry  as  though 
some  pleasant  carnival  were  just  beginning.  Shop 
keeper  called  across  to  his  neighbor,  tradesman  gos 
siped  with  gallant.  Even  the  stolid  faces  of  the 
plodding  peasants,  fresh  past  the  gate-tax  and  bound 
for  the  markets  to  seek  what  little  there  remained 
after  giving  to  the  king,  bore  an  unwonted  look, 
as  though  hope  might  yet  succeed  to  their  surprise. 

"Ohe!  Marie,"  called  one  stout  dame  to  another, 
who  stood  smiling  in  her  doorway  near  by.  "See 
the  fine  coach  coming.  That  is  the  sort  you  and 
I  shall  have  one  of  these  days,  now  that  the  king 
is  dead.  God  bless  the  new  king,  and  may  he 
die  young !  A  plague  to  all  kings,  Marie.  And 
now  come  and  sit  with  my  man  and  me,  for  we've 
(304) 


EVER   SAID    SHE    NAY  305 

a  bottle  left,  and  while  it  lasts  we  drink  freedom 
from  all  kings!" 

"You  speak  words  of  gold,  Suzanne,"  was  the 
reply.  "Surely  I  will  drink  with  you,  and  wish  a 
pleasant  and  speedy  death  to  kings." 

"But  now,  Marie,"  said  the  other,  argumentatively, 
"as  to  my  good  duke  regent,  that  is  otherwise.  It 
goes  about  that  he  will  change  all  things.  One 
is  to  amuse  one's  self  now  and  then,  and  not  to  work 
forever  for  the  taxes  and  the  conscription.  Long 
live  the  regent,  then,  say  I!" 

"Yes,  and  let  us  hope  that  regents  never  turn 
to  kings.  There  are  to  be  new  days  here  in  France. 
We  people,  aye,  my  faith!  We  people,  so  they  say, 
are  to  be  considered.  True,  we  shall  have  carriages 
one  day,  Marie,  like  that  of  my  Lord  who  passes." 

John  Law  and  his  companions  heard  broken  bits 
of  such  speech  as  this  as  they  passed  on. 

"Ah,  they  talk,"  replied  he  at  last,  turning  toward 
his  companions,  "and  this  is  talk  which  means  some 
thing.  Within  the  year  we  shall  see  Paris  upside 
down.  These  people  are  ready  for  any  new  thing. 
But" — and  his  face  lost  some  of  its  gravity — "the 
streets  are  none  too  safe  to-day,  my  Lady.  Therefore 
you  must  forgive  me  if  I  do  not  set  you  down,  but 
keep  you  prisoner  until  you  reach  your  own  gates. 
'Tis  not  your  fault  that  your  carriage  broke  down 


306          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

on  the  road  from  Marly ;  and  as  for  my  brother  Will 
and  myself,  we  can  not  forego  a  good  fortune  which 
enables  us  at  last  to  destroy  a  certain  long-standing 
debt  of  a  carriage  ride  given  us,  once  upon  a  time, 
by  the  Lady  Catharine  Knollys." 

"At  least,  then,  we  shall  be  well  acquit  on  both 
sides/'  replied  the  soft  voice  of  the  woman.  "I 
may,  perhaps,  be  an  unwilling  prisoner  for  so  short 
a  time." 

"Madam,  I  would  God  it  might  be  forever  I" 

It  was  the  same  John  Law  of  old  who  made  this 
impetuous  reply,  and  indeed  he  seemed  scarce 
changed  by  the  passing  of  these  few  years  of  time. 
It  was  the  audacious  youth  of  the  English  highway 
who  now  looked  at  her  with  grave  face,  yet  with  eyes 
that  shone. 

Some  years  had  indeed  passed  since  Law,  turning 
his  back  upon  the  appeal  of  the  wide  New  World, 
had  again  set  foot  upon  the  shores  of  England, 
from  which  his  departure  had  been  so  singular. 
Driven  by  the  goads  of  remorse,  it  had  been  his  first 
thought  to  seek  out  the  Lady  Catharine  Knollys ;  and 
so  intent  had  he  been  on  this  quest,  that  he  learned 
almost  without  emotion  of  the  king's  pardon  which 
had  been  entered,  discharging  him  of  further  penalty 
of  the  law  of  England.  Meeting  Lady  Catharine, 
he  learned,  as  have  others  since  and  before  him, 


EVER    SAID    SHE    NAY  307 

that  a  human  soul  may  have  laws  inflexible;  that 
the  iron  bars  of  a  woman's  resolve  may  bar  one 
out,  even  as  prison  doors  may  bar  him  in.  He 
found  the  Lady  Catharine  unshakeable  in  her  resolve 
not  to  see  him  or  speak  with  him.  Whereat  he  raged, 
expostulated  by  post,  waited,  waylaid,  and  so  at 
length  gained  an  interview,  which  taught  him  many 
things. 

He  found  the  Lady  Catharine  Knollys  changed 
from  a  light-hearted  girl  to  a  maiden  tall,  grave, 
reserved  and  sad,  offering  no  reproaches,  listening 
to  no  protestations.  Told  of  Sir  Arthur  Pembroke's 
horrible  death,  she  wept  with  tears  which  his  sur 
vivor  envied.  Told  at  length  of  the  little  child, 
she  sat  wide-eyed  and  silent.  Approached  with  words 
of  remorse,  with  expostulations,  promises,  she 
shrank  back  in  absolute  horror,  trembling,  so  that 
in  very  pity  the  wretched  young  man  left  her  and 
found  his  way  out  into  a  world  suddenly  grown 
old  and  gray. 

After  this  dismissal,  Law  for  many  months  saw 
nothing,  heard  nothing  of  this  woman  whom  he 
had  wronged,  even  as  he  received  no  sign  from  the 
woman  who  had  forsaken  him  over  seas.  He  re 
mained  away  as  long  as  might  be,  until  his  violent 
nature,  geyser-like,  gathered  inner  storm  and  fury 
by  repression,  and  broke  away  in  wild  eruption. 


308          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

Once  more  he  sought  the  presence  of  the  woman 
whose  face  haunted  his  soul,  and  once  more  he 
met  ice  and  adamant  stronger  than  his  own  fires. 
Beaten,  he  fled  from  London  and  from  England, 
seeking  still,  after  the  ancient  and  ineffective  fashion 
of  man,  to  forget,  though  he  himself  had  confessed 
the  lesson  that  man  can  not  escape  himself,  but 
takes  his  own  hell  with  him  wherever  he  goes. 

Rejected,  as  he  was  now,  by  the  new  ministry  of 
England,  none  the  less  every  capital  of  Europe  came 
presently  to  know  John  Law,  gambler,  student  and 
financier.  Before  every  ruler  on  the  continent  he 
laid  his  system  of  financial  revolution,  and  one  by 
one  they  smiled,  or  shrugged,  or  scoffed  at  him. 
Baffled  once  more  in  his  dearest  purpose,  he  took 
again  to  play,  play  in  such  colossal  and  audacious 
form  as  never  yet  had  been  seen  even  in  the  gayest 
courts  of  a  time  when  gaming  was  a  vice  to  be  called 
national.  No  hazard  was  too  great  for  him,  no  suc 
cess  and  no  reverse  sufficiently  keen  to  cause  him 
any  apparent  concern.  There  was  no  risk  sharp 
enough  to  deaden  the  gnawing  in  his  soul,  no  ex 
citement  strong  enough  to  wipe  away  from  his  mind 
the  black  panorama  of  his  past. 

He  won  princely  fortunes  and  cast  them  away 
again.  With  the  figure  and  the  air  of  a  prince,  he 
gained  greater  reputation  than  any  prince  of  Europe. 


EVER   SAID    SHE    NAY  309 

Upon  him  were  spent  the  blandishments  of  the  fair 
est  women  of  his  time.  Yet  not  this,  not  all  this, 
served  to  steady  his  energies,  now  unbalanced,  speed 
ing  without  guidance.  The  gold,  heaped  high  on  the 
tables,  was  not  enough  to  stupefy  his  mind,  not 
enough  though  he  doubled  and  trebled  it,  though  he 
cast  great  golden  markers  to  spare  him  trouble  in  the 
counting  of  his  winnings.  Still  student,  still  math 
ematician,  he  sought  at  Amsterdam,  at  Paris,  at 
Vienna,  all  new  theories  which  offered  in  the  science 
of  banking  and  finance,  even  as  at  the  same  time 
he  delved  still  further  into  the  mysteries  Of  recur 
rences  and  chance. 

In  this  latter  such  was  his  success  that  losers 
made  complaint,  unjust  but  effectual,  to  the  king, 
so  that  Law  was  obliged  to  leave  Paris  for  a  time. 
He  had  dwelt  long  enough  in  Paris,  this  double- 
natured  man,  this  student  and  creator,  this  gambler 
and  gallant,  to  win  the  friendship  of  Philippe  of 
Orleans,  later  to  be  regent  of  France;  and  gay 
enough  had  been  the  life  they  two  had  led — so  gay, 
so  intimate,  that  Philippe  gave  promise  that,  should 
he  ever  hold  in  his  own  hands  the  Government  of 
France,  he  would  end  Law's  banishment  and  give 
to  him  the  opportunity  he  sought,  of  proving  those 
theories  of  finance  which  constituted  the  absorbing 
ambition  of  his  life, 


310          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

Meantime  Law,  ever  restless,  had  passed  from 
one  capital  of  Europe  to  another,  dragging  with 
him  from  hotel  to  hotel  the  young  child  whose  life 
had  heen  cast  in  such  feverish  and  unnatural  sur 
roundings.  He  continued  to  challenge  every  hazard, 
fearless,  reckless,  contemptuous,  and  withal  wretched, 
as  one  must  be  who,  after  years  of  effort,  found  that 
he  could  not  banish  from  his  mind  the  pictures  of 
a  dark-floored  prison,  and  of  a  knife-stab  in  the 
dark,  and  of  raging,  awful  waters,  and  of  a  girl 
beautiful,  though  with  sealed  lips  and  heart  of 
ice.  From  time  to  time,  as  was  well  known,  Law  re 
turned  to  England.  He  heard  of  the  Lady  Catharine 
Knollys,  as  might  easily  be  done  in  London;  heard 
of  her  as  a  young  woman  kind  of  heart,  soft  of 
speech,  with  tenderness  for  every  little  suffering 
thing;  a  beautiful  young  woman,  whose  admirers 
listed  scores;  but  who  never  yet,  even  according  to 
the  eagerest  gossip  of  the  capital,  had  found  a 
suitor  to  whom  she  gave  word  or  thought  of  love. 

So  now  at  last  the  arrogant  selfishness  of  his 
heart  began  to  yield.  His  heart  was  broken  before 
it  might  soften,  but  soften  at  last  it  did.  And  so 
he  built  up  in  his  soul  the  image  of  a  grave,  sweet 
saint,  kindly  and  gentle-voiced,  unapproachable,  not 
to  be  profaned.  To  this  image — ah,  which  of  us 
has  not  had  such  a  shrine! — he  brought  in  secret 


EVER   SAID    SHE   NAY  311 

the  homage  of  his  life,  his  confessions,  his  despairs, 
his  hopes,  his  resolutions;  guiding  thereby  all  his 
life,  as  well  as  poor  mortal  man  may  do,  failing 
ever  of  his  own  standards,  as  all  men  do,  yet  hark 
ing  ever  back  to  that  secret  sibyl,  reckoning  all 
things  from  her,  'for  her,  by  her. 

There  came  at  length  one  chastened  hour  when 
they  met  in  calmness,  when  there  was  no  longer 
talk  of  love  between  them,  when  he  stood  before  her 
as  though  indeed  at  the  altar  of  some  marble  deity. 
Always  her  answer  had  been  that  the  past  had  been 
a  mistake ;  that  she  had  professed  to  love  a  man,  not 
knowing  what  that  man  was ;  that  she  had  suffered, 
but  that  it  was  better  so,  since  it  had  brought  under 
standing.  Now,  in  this  calmer  time,  she  begged  of 
him  knowledge  of  this  child,  regretting  the  wander 
ing  life  which  had  been  its  portion,  saying  that  for 
Mary  Connynge  she  no  longer  felt  horror  and 
hatred.  Thus  it  was  that  in  a  hasty  moment  Law 
had  impulsively  begged  her  to  assume  some  sort 
of  tutelage  over  that  unfortunate  child.  It  was  to 
his  own  amazement  that  he  heard  Lady  Catharine 
Knollys  consent,  stipulating  that  the  child  should 
be  placed  in  a  Paris  convent  for  two  years,  and  that 
for  two  years  John  Law  should  see  neither  his  daugh 
ter  nor  herself.  Obedient  as  a  child  himself,  he  had 
promised. 


312          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

"Now,  go  away/'  she  then  had  said  to  him.  "Go 
your  own  way.  Drink,  dice,  game,  and  waste  the 
talents  God  hath  given  you.  You  have  made  ruin 
enough  for  all  of  us.  I  would  only  that  it  may 
not  run  so  far  as  to  another  generation." 

So  both  had  kept  their  promises;  and  now  the 
two  years  were  done,  years  spent  by  Law  more  man 
fully  than  any  of  his  life.  His  fortune  he  had 
gathered  together,  amounting  to  more  than  a  mil 
lion  livres.  He  had  sent  once  more  for  his  brother 
Will,  and  thus  the  two  had  lived  for  some  time  in 
company  in  lower  Europe,  the  elder  brother  still 
curious  as  ever  in  his  abstruse  theories  of  banking 
and  finance — theories  then  new,  now  outlived  in 
great  part,  though  fit  to  be  called  a  portion  of 
the  great  foundation  of  the  commercial  system  of 
the  world.  It  was  a  wiser  and  soberer  and  riper 
John  Law,  this  man  who  had  but  recently  received 
a  summons  from  Philippe  of  Orleans  to  be  present 
in  Paris,  for  that  the  king  was  dying,  and  that  all 
France,  France  the  bankrupt  and  distracted,  was 
on  the  brink  of  sudden  and  perhaps  fateful  change. 

With  a  quick  revival  of  all  his  Highland  supersti 
tion,  Law  hailed  now  as  happy  harbinger  the  fact 
that,  upon  his  entry  into  Paris,  the  city  once  more 
of  his  hopes,  he  had  met  in  such  fashion  this  lady 
of  his  dreams,  even  at  such  time  as  the  seal  of  silence 


EVER   SAID    SHE   NAY  313 

was  lifted  from  his  lips.  It  was  no  wonder  that  his 
eye  gleamed,  that  his  voice  took  on  the  old  vibrant 
tone,  that  every  gesture,  in  thought  or  in  spite  of 
thought,  assumed  the  tender  deference  of  the  lover. 

It  was  a  fair  woman,  this  chance  guest  of  the  high 
way  whom  he  now  accosted — bronze-haired,  blue-eyed, 
soft  of  voice,  queenly  of  mien,  gentle,  calm  and  truly 
lovable.  Oh,  what  waste  that  those  arms  should 
hold  nothing,  that  lips  such  as  those  should  know 
no  kisses,  that  eyes  like  those  should  never  swim  in 
love!  What  robbery!  What  crime!  And  this 
man,  thief  of  this  woman's  life,  felt  his  heart  pinch 
again  in  the  old,  sharp  anguish  of  remorse,  bitterest 
because  unavailing. 

For  the  Lady  Catharine  herself  there  had  been  also 
many  changes.  The  death  of  her  brother,  the  Earl 
of  Banbury,  had  wrought  many  shifts  in  the  cir 
cumstances  of  a  house  apparently  pursued  by  un 
kind  fate.  Left  practically  alone  and  caring  little 
for  the  life  of  London,  even  after  there  had  worn 
away  the  chill  of  suspicion  which  followed  upon  the 
popular  knowledge  of  her  connection  with  the  escape 
of  Law  from  London,  Lady  Catharine  ELnollys 
turned  to  a  life  and  world  suddenly  grown  vague 
and  empty.  Travel  upon  the  continent  with  friends, 
occasional  visits  to  the  old  family  house  in  England, 
long  sojourns  in  this  or  the  other  city — such  had 


314          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

been  her  life,  quiet,  sweet,  reproachless  and  unre- 
proaching.  For  the  present  she  had  taken  an  liotel 
in  the  older  part  of  Paris,  in  connection  with  her 
friend,  the  Countess  of  Warrington,  sometime  con 
nected  with  the  embassy  of  that  Lord  Stair  who  was 
later  to  act  as  spy  for  England  in  Paris,  now  so  soon 
to  know  tumultuous  scenes.  With  these  scenes,  as 
time  was  soon  to  prove,  there  was  to  be  most  inti 
mately  connected  this  very  man  who,  now  bending 
forward  attentively,  now  listening  respectfully,  and 
ever  gazing  directly  and  ardently,  heard  naught  of 
plots  or  plans,  cared  naught  for  the  Paris  which  lay 
about,  saw  naught  but  the  beautiful  face  before  him, 
felt  naught  but  some  deep,  compelling  thrill  in  every 
heart-string  which  now  reaching  sweet  accord  in  spite 
of  fate,  in  spite  of  the  past,  in  spite  of  all,  went  sing 
ing  on  in  a  deep  melody  of  joy.  This  was  she,  the 
idol,  the  deity.  Let  the  world  wag.  It  was  a  mo 
ment  yet  ere  paradise  must  end ! 

"Madam,  I  would  God  it  might  be  forever!" 
said  Law  again.  The  old  stubborn  nature  was 
showing  once  more,  but  under  it  something  deeper, 
softer,  tenderer. 

A  sudden  panic  fear  called  at  the  heart  of  her 
to  whom  he  spoke.  Two  rosy  spots  shone  in  her 
cheeks,  and  as  she  gazed,  her  eyes  showed  the  veiled 


EVEK    SAID    SHE    NAY  315 

softening  of  woman's  gentleness.  There  fell  a 
silence. 

"Madam,  I  could  feel  that  this  were  Sadler's 
Wells  over  again,"  said  Law  a  moment  later. 

But  now  the  carriage  had  arrived  at  the  destina 
tion  named  by  Lady  Catharine.  Law  sprang  out, 
hat  in  hand,  and  assisted  Lady  Catharine  to  the 
curb.  A  passing  flower  girl,  gaily  offering  her 
wares,  paused  as  the  carriage  drew  up.  Law  turned 
quickly  and  caught  from  her  as  many  roses  as  his 
hand  could  grasp,  handing  her  in  return  half  as 
much  coin  as  her  smaller  palm  could  hold.  He 
turned  to  the  Lady  Catharine,  and  bowed  with  that 
grace  which  was  the  talk  of  a  world  of  gallants. 
In  his  hand  he  extended  a  flower. 

"Madam,  as  before  I"  he  said. 

There  was  a  sob  in  his  voice.  Their  eyes  met 
fairly,  unmasked  as  they  had  not  been  for  years. 
Tears  came  into  the  man's  eyes,  the  first  that  had 
ever  sat  there ;  tears  for  the  past,  tears  for  that  sweet 
ness  which  once  might  have  been. 

"'Tis  for  the  king!  They  weep  for  the  king!" 
sang  out  the  hard  voice  of  the  flower  girl,  ironic 
ally,  as  she  skipped  away.  "Ohe,  for  the  king,  for 
the  king !" 

"Nay,  for  the  queen !"  said  John  Law,  as  he  gazed 
into  the  eyes  of  Catharine  Knollys. 


CHAPTER  III 

SEARCH   THOU   MY   HEART 

"Only  believe  me,  Lady  Catharine,  and  I  shall 
do  everything  I  promised  years  ago — I  shall  lay  all 
France  at  your  feet.  But  if  you  deny  me  thus 
always,  I  shall  make  all  France  a  mockery." 

"Monsieur  is  fresh  from  the  South  of  France/' 
replied  the  Lady  Catharine  Knollys.  "Has  Gascon 
wine  perhaps  put  Gascon  speech  into  his  mouth  ?" 

"Oh,  laugh  if  you  like,"  exclaimed  Law,  rising 
and  pacing  across  the  great  room  in  which  these 
two  had  met.  "Laugh  and  mock,  but  we  shall  see  I" 

"Granted  that  Mr.  Law  is  well  within  his  cus 
tomary  modesty,"  replied  Lady  Catharine,  "and 
granted  even  that  Mr.  Law  has  all  France  in  the 
hollow  of  his  hand  to-day,  to  do  with  as  he  likes, 
I  must  confess  I  see  not  why  France  should  suffer 
because  I  myself  have  found  it  difficult  to  endorse 
Mr.  Law's  personal  code  of  morals." 

It  was  the  third  day  after  Law's  entry  into  Paris, 
and  the  first  time  for  more  than  two  long  years 
that  he  found  himself  alone  with  the  Lady  Cath- 
(316) 


SEAECH  THOU  MY  HEAET    317 

arine  Knollys.  His  eagerness  might  have  excused 
his  impetuous  and  boastful  speech. 

As  for  the  Lady  Catharine,  that  one  swift,  elec 
tric  moment  at  the  street  curb  had  well-nigh  un 
done  more  than  two  years  of  resolve.  She  had  heard 
herself,  as  it  were  in  a  dream,  promising  that  this 
man  might  come.  She  had  found  herself  later  in 
her  own  apartments,  panting,  wide-eyed,  afraid. 
Some  great  hand,  unseen,  uninvited,  mysterious, 
had  swept  ruthlessly  across  each  chord  of  womanly 
reserve  and  resolution  which  so  long  she  had  held 
well-ordered  and  absolutely  under  control.  It  was 
self  distrust,  fear,  which  now  compelled  her  to  take 
refuge  in  this  woman's  fence  of  speech  with  him. 
"Surely,"  argued  she  with  herself,  "if  love  once  dies, 
then  it  is  dead  forever,  and  can  never  be  revived. 
Surely,"  she  insisted  to  herself,  "my  love  is  dead. 
Then — ah,  but  then  was  it  dead?  Can  my  heart 
grow  again?"  asked  the  Lady  Catharine  of  herself, 
tremblingly.  This  was  that  which  gave  her  pause. 
It  was  this  also  which  gave  to  her  cheek  its  brighter 
color,  to  her  eye  a  softer  gleam;  and  to  her  speech 
this  covering  shield  of  badinage. 

Yet  all  her  defenses  were  in  a  way  to  be  fairly 
beaten  down  by  the  intentness  of  the  other.  All 
things  he  put  aside  or  overrode,  and  would  speak 
but  of  himself  and  herself,  of  his  plans,  his  oppor- 


318          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

tunities,  and  of  how  these  were  concerned  with 
himself  and  with  her. 

"There  are  those  who  judge  not  so  harshly  as 
yourself,  Madam,"  resumed  Law.  "His  Grace  the 
regent  is  good  enough  to  believe  that  my  studies 
have  gone  deeper  than  the  green  cloth  of  the  gaming 
table.  Now,  I  tell  you,  my  time  has  come — my  day 
at  last  is  here.  I  tell  you  that  I  shall  prove  to  you 
everything  which  I  said  to  you  long  ago,  back  there 
in  old  England.  I  shall  prove  to  you  that  I  have  not 
been  altogether  an  idler  and  a  trifler.  I  shall  bring 
to  you,  as  I  promised  you  long  ago,  all  the  wealth, 
all  the  distinction — " 

"But  such  speech  is  needless,  Mr.  Law/'  came  the 
reply.  "I  have  all  the  wealth  I  need,  nor  do  I 
crave  distinction,  save  of  my  own  selection." 

"But  you  do  not  dream !  This  is  a  day  unparal 
leled.  There  will  be  such  changes  here  as  never 
yet  were  known.  Within  a  week  you  shall  hear  of 
my  name  in  Paris.  Within  a  month  you  shall  hear 
of  it  beyond  the  gates  of  Paris.  Within  a  year  you 
shall  hear  nothing  else  in  Europe !" 

"As  I  hear  nothing  else  here  now,  Monsieur?" 

Like  a  horse  restless  under  the  snaffle,  the  man 
shook  his  head,  but  went  on.  "If  you  should  be 
offered  wealth  more  than  any  woman  of  Paris,  if 


SEARCH  THOU  MY  HEART    319 

you  had  precedence  over  the  proudest  peers  of  France 
— would  these  things  have  no  weight  with  you?" 

"You  know  they  would  not." 

Law  cast  himself  restlessly  upon  a  seat  across 
the  room  from  her.  "I  think  I  do,"  said  he,  de 
jectedly.  "At  times  you  drive  me  to  my  wit's  end. 
What  then,  Madam,  would  avail  ?" 

"Why,  nothing,  so  far  as  the  past  is  to  be  reviewed 
for  you  and  me.  Yet,  I  should  say  that,  if  there 
were  two  here  speaking  as  you  and  I,  and  if  they 
two  had  no  such  past  as  we — then  I  could  fancy 
that  woman  saying  to  her  friend,  'Have  you  indeed 
done  all  that  lay  within  you  to  do  ?' " 

"Is  it  not  enough —  ?" 

"There  is  nothing,  sir,  that  is  enough  for  a  woman, 
but  all !" 

"I  have  given  you  all." 

"All  that  you  have  left — after  yourself." 

"Sharp,  sharp  indeed  are  your  words,  my  Lady. 
And  they  are  most  sharp  because  they  come  with 
justice." 

"Oh,"  broke  out  the  woman,  "one  may  use  sharp 
words  who  has  been  scorned  for  her  own  false  friend ! 
You  would  give  me  all,  Mr.  Law,  but  you  must  re 
member  that  it  is  only  what  remains  after  that — 
that—" 


320          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

"But  would  you,  could  you,  have  cared  had  there 
been  no  'that'?  Had  I  done  all  that  lay  in  me  to 
do,  could  you  then  have  given  me  your  confidence, 
and  could  you  have  thought  me  worthy  of  it  ?" 

"Oh,  'if!'" 

"Yes,  'if!'  'If,'  and  'as  though,'  and  'in  that 
case' — these  are  all  we  have  to  console  us  in  this  life. 
But,  sweet  one — " 

"Sir,  such  words  I  have  forbidden,"  said  Lady 
Catharine,  the  blood  for  one  cause  or  another  mount 
ing  again  into  her  cheek. 

"You  torture  me !"  broke  out  Law. 

"As  much  as  you  have  me  ?  Is  it  so  much  as  that, 
Mr.  Law?" 

He  rose  and  stood  apart,  his  head  falling  in  de 
spair.  "As  I  have  done  this  thing,  so  may  God 
punish  me !"  said  he.  "I  was  not  fit,  and  am  not. 
Yet  I  was  bold  enough  to  hope  that  there  could  be 
some  atonement,  some  thing — if  my  suffering — " 

"There  are  things,  Mr.  Law,  for  which  no  suffer 
ing  atones.  But  why  cause  suffering  longer  for  us 
both?  You  come  again  and  again.  Could  you  not 
leave  me  for  a  time  untroubled  ?" 

"How  can  I?"  blazed  the  man,  his  forehead  fur 
rowed  up  into  a  frown,  the  moist  beads  on  his  brow 
proving  his  own  intentness.  "I  can  not!  I  can 


SEARCH  THOU  MY  HEART    321 

not !  That  is  all  I  know.  Ask  me  not  why.  I  can 
not;  that  is  all." 

"Sir/'  said  Lady  Catharine,  "this  seems  to  me 
no  less  than  terrible." 

"It  is  indeed  no  less  than  terrible.  Yet  I  must 
come  and  come  again,  bound  some  day  to  be  heard, 
not  for  what  I  am,  but  for  what  I  might  be.  'Tis 
not  justice  I  would  have,  dear  heart,  but  mercy, 
a  woman's  mercy !" 

"And  you  would  bully  me  to  agree  with  you,  as 
I  said,  in  regard  to  your  own  excellent  code  of 
morals,  Mr.  Law  ?" 

"You  evade,  like  any  woman,  but  if  you  will, 
even  have  it  so.  At  least  there  is  to  be  this  battle 
between  us  all  our  lives.  I  will  be  loved,  Lady 
Catharine!  I  must  be  loved  by  you!  Look  in  my 
heart.  Search  beneath  this  man  that  you  and  oth 
ers  see.  Find  me  my  own  fellow,  that  other  self 
better  than  I,  who  cries  out  always  thus.  Look! 
'Tis  not  for  me  as  I  am.  No  man  deserves  aught 
for  himself.  But  find  in  my  heart,  Lady  Catharine, 
that  other  self,  the  man  I  might  have  been!  Dear 
heart,  I  beseech  you,  look !" 

Impulsively,  he  even  tore  apart  the  front  of  his 
coat,  as  though  indeed  to  invite  such  scrutiny.  He 
stood  before  her,  trembling,  choking.  The  passion 


322          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

of  his  speech  caused  the  color  again  to  rush  to  the 
Lady  Catharine's  face.  For  a  moment  her  bosom 
rose  and  fell  tumultuously,  deep  answering  as  of  old 
unto  deep,  in  the  ancient,  wondrous  way. 

"Is  it  the  part  of  manhood  to  persecute  a  woman, 
Mr.  Law?"  she  asked,  her  own  uncertitude  now 
showing  in  her  tone. 

"I  do  not  know,"  he  answered. 

Lady  Catharine  looked  at  him  curiously. 

"Do  you  love  me,  Mr.  Law?"  she  asked,  directly. 

"I  have  no  answer." 

"Did  you  love  that  other  woman  ?" 

It  took  all  his  courage  to  reply.  "I  am  not  fit  to 
answer,"  said  he. 

"And  you  would  love  me,  too,  for  a  time  and 
in  a  way  ?" 

"I  will  not  answer.     I  will  not  trifle." 

"And  I  am  to  think  Mr.  Law  better  than  himself, 
better  than  other  men;  since  you  say  no  man  dare 
ask  actual  justice  ?" 

"Worse  than  other  men,  and  yet  a  man.  A  man — 
my  God !  Lady  Catharine — a  man  unworthy,  yet 
a  man  seized  fatally  of  that  love  which  neither  life 
nor  death  can  alter !" 

As  one  fascinated,  Lady  Catharine  sat  looking  at 
him.  "Then,"  said  she,  "any  man  may  say  to  any 
woman — Mr.  Law  says  to  me — 'I  have  cared  for 


SEARCH  THOU  MY  HEART    323 

such  and  so  many  other  women  to  the  extent,  let 
us  say,  of  so  many  pounds  sterling.  But  I  love 
you  to  the  extent  of  twice  as  many  pounds,  shillings 
and  pence  ?'  Is  that  the  dole  we  women  may  expect, 
Mr.  Law?" 

"Have  back  your  own  words !"  he  cried.  "Nothing 
is  enough  but  all!  And  as  God  witnesseth  in 
this  hour,  I  have  loved  you  with  all  my  heart-beats, 
with  all  my  prayers.  I  call  upon  you  now,  in  the 
name  of  that  love  I  know  you  once  bore  me — " 

Upon  the  face  of  the  Lady  Catharine  there  blazed 
the  red  mark  of  the  shame  of  Knollys.  Covering 
her  face  with  her  hands,  she  suddenly  bent  forward, 
and  from  her  lips  there  broke  a  sob  of  pain. 

In  a  flash  Law  was  at  her  side,  kneeling,  seeking 
to  draw  away  her  fingers  with  hands  that  trembled 
as  much  as  her  own. 

"Do  not!  Do  not!"  he  cried.  "I  am  not  worth 
it!  It  shall  be  as  you  like.  Let  me  go  away  for 
ever.  This  I  can  not  endure !" 

"Ah,  John  Law,  John  Law!"  murmured  Catha 
rine  Knollys,  "why  did  you  break  my  heart !" 


CHAPTEK  IV 

THE  REGENT'S  PROMISE 

"Tell  me,  then,  Monsieur  L'as,  of  this  new  Amer 
ica.  I  would  fain  have  some  information  at  first 
hand.  There  was  rumor,  I  know  not  how  exact, 
that  you  once  traveled  in  those  regions." 

Thus  spake  his  Grace  Philippe,  Duke  of  Orleans, 
regent  of  France,  now,  in  effect,  ruler  of  France. 
It  was  the  audience  which  had  been  arranged 
for  John  Law,  that  opportunity  for  which  he 
had  waited  all  his  life.  Before  him  now,  as 
he  stood  in  the  great  council  chamber,  facing  this 
man  whose  ambitions  ended  where  his  own  began 
— at  the  convivial  board  and  at  the  gaming  table — 
he  saw  the  path  which  led  to  the  success  that  he 
had  craved  so  long.  He,  Law  of  Lauriston,  some 
time  adventurer  and  gambler,  was  now  playing  his 
last  and  greatest  game. 

"Your  Grace,"  said  he,  "there  be  many  who  might 
better  than  I  tell  you  of  that  America." 

"There  are  many  who  should  be  able,  and  many 
who  do,"  replied  the  regent.  "By  the  body  of  the 
(324) 


THE    REGENT'S    PROMISE  325 

Lord!  we  get  nothing  but  information  regarding 
these  provinces  of  New  France,  and  each  advice 
is  worse  than  the  one  preceding  it.  The  gist  of  it 
all  is  that  my  Lord  Governor  and  my  very  good 
intendant  can  never  agree,  save  upon  one  point  or 
so.  They  want  more  money,  an-d  they  want  more 
soldiers — ah,  yes,  to  be  sure,  they  also  want  more 
women,  though  we  sent  them  out  a  ship  load  of 
choice  beauties  not  more  than  a  six-month  ago. 
But  tell  me,  Monsieur  L'-as,  is  it  indeed  true  that 
you  have  traveled  in  America?" 

"For  a  short  time." 

"I  have  heard  nothing  regarding  you  from  the 
intendant  at  Quebec." 

"Your  Grace  was  not  at  that  time  caring  for 
intendants.  JTwas  many  years  ago,  and  I  was  not 
well  known  at  Quebec  by  my  own  name." 

"Eh  bien?  Some  adventure,  then,  perhaps?  A 
woman  at  the  bottom  of  it,  I  warrant" 

"Your  Grace  is  right." 

"  'Twas  like  you,  for  a  fellow  of  good  zest.  May 
God  bless  all  fair  dames.  And  as  to  what  you  found 
in  thus  following — or  was  it  in  fleeing — your  di 
vinity?" 

"I  found  many  things.  For  one,  that  this  America 
is  the  greatest  country  of  the  world.  Neither 
England  nor  France  is  to  be  compared  with  it." 


326          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

The  regent  fell  back  in  his  chair  and  laughed' 
heartily. 

"Monsieur,  you  are  indeed,  as  I  have  ever  found 
you,  of  most  excellent  wit.  You  please  me  enor 
mously/* 

"But,  your  Grace,  I  am  entirely  serious." 

"Oh,  come,  spoil  not  so  good  a  jest  by  qualifying,. 
I  beseech  you!  England  or  France,  indeed — ah, 
Monsieur  L'as,  Monsieur  L'as!" 

"Your  own  city  of  New  Orleans,  Sire,  will  lie  at 
the  gate  of  a  realm  greater  than  all  France.  Your 
Grace  will  hand  to  the  young  king,  when  he  shall 
come  of  age,  a  realm  excellently  worth  the  ownership 
of  any  king." 

"You  say  rich.  In  what  way?"  asked  the  regent. 
"We  have  not  had  so  much  of  returns  after  all. 
Look  at  Crozat  ?  Look  at — " 

"Oh  fie,  Crozat!  Your  Grace,  he  solved  not  the 
first  problem  of  real  commerce.  He  never  dreamed 
the  real  richness  of  America." 

Philippe  sat  thoughtful,  his  finger  tips  together. 
"Why  have  we  not  heard  of  these  things  ?"  said  he. 

"Because  of  men  like  Crozat,  of  men  like  your 
governors  and  intendants  at  Quebec.  Because,  your 
Grace,  as  you  know  very  well,  of  the  same  reason 
which  sent  me  once  from  Paris,  and  kept  me  so  long 


THE    REGENT'S    PROMISE  327 

from  laying  before  you  these  very  plans  of  which 
I  now  would  speak." 

"And  that  cause?" 

"Maintenon." 

"Oh,  ah !     Indeed — that  is  to  say — " 

"Louis  would  hear  naught  of  me,  of  course. 
Maintenon  took  care  that  he  should  find  I  was  but 
heretic." 

"As  for  myself,"  said  Philippe  the  regent, 
"heretic  or  not  heretic  makes  but  small  figure. 
'Twill  take  France  a  century  to  overcome  her  late 
surfeit  of  religion.  For  us,  'tis  most  a  question 
of  how  to  keep  the  king  in  the  saddle  and  France 
underneath." 

"Precisely,  your  Grace." 

"Frankly,  Monsieur  L'as,  I  take  it  fittest  now 
not  so  much  to  ponder  over  new  worlds  as  over  how 
to  keep  in  touch  with  this  Old  World  yet  awhile. 
France  has  danced,  though  for  years  she  danced 
to  the  tune  of  Louis  clad  in  black.  Now  France 
must  pay  for  the  music.  My  faith,  I  like  not  the 
look  pf  things.  This  joyful  France  to-day  is  a  hid 
eous  thing.  These  people  laugh!  I  had  sooner  see 
a  lion  grin.  Now  to  govern  those  given  us  by 
Providence  to  govern,"  and  the  regent  smiled  grimly 
at  the  ancient  fiction,  "it  is  most  meet  that  the 


328          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

governed  should  produce  somewhat  of  funds  in  order 
that  they  may  be  governed." 

"Yes,  and  the  error  has  heen  in  going  too  far," 
said  Law.  "These  people  have  heen  taxed  beyond 
the  taxation  point.  Now  they  laugh." 

"Yes;  and  by  God,  Monsieur  L'as,  when  France 
laughs,  beware !" 

"Your  Grace  admits  that  France  has  no  further 
resources." 

"Assuredly." 

"Then  tax  New  France!"  cried  Law,  his  hand 
coming  down  hard  upon  the  table,  his  eyes  shining. 
"Mortgage  where  the  security  doubles  every  year, 
where  the  soil  itself  is  security  for  wealth  greater 
than  all  Europe  ever  owned." 

"Oh,  very  well,  Monsieur;  though  later  I  must 
ask  you  to  explain." 

"You  admit  that  no  more  money  can  be  forced 
from  the  people  of  France." 

"Ask  the  farmers  of  the  taxes.  Ask  Chamillard 
of  the  Treasury.  My  faith,  look  out  of  the  window ! 
Listen !  Do  I  not  tell  you  that  France  is  laughjng  ?" 

"Very  well.  Let  us  also  laugh.  Let  us  all  laugh 
together.  There  is  money  in  France,  more  money 
in  Europe.  I  assure  you  these  people  can  be  brought 
to  give  you  cheerfully  all  they  have/' 


THE    BEGENT'S    PEOMISE  329 

"It  sounds  well,,  Monsieur  L'as,  but  let  me  ask 
you  how  ?" 

"France  is  bankrupt — this  is  brutal,  but  none  the 
less  true.  France  must  repudiate  her  obligations 
unless  something  be  swiftly  done.  It  is  not  noble 
to  repudiate,  your  Grace.  Yet,  if  we  cancel  and  not 
repudiate,  if  we  can  obtain  the  gold  of  France,  of 
Europe — " 

"Body  of  God !  but  you  speak  large,  my  friend." 

"Not  so  large.  All  subjects  shrink  as  we  come 
close  to  them  by  study.  'Tis  easy  to  see  that  France 
has  not  money  enough  for  her  own  business.  If 
we  had  more  money  in  France,  we  should  have  more 
production,  and  if  we  had  more  production,  we 
might  have  taxes.  Thereby  we  might  have  some 
what  in  our  treasury  wherewith  to  keep  the  king 
in  the  saddle,  and  not  under  foot." 

"Then,  if  I  follow  you,"  said  Philippe,  leaning 
slightly  forward  and  again  placing  his  finger  tips 
judicially  together,  "you  would  coin  greater  amounts 
of  money.  Then,  I  would  ask  you,  where  would 
you  get  your  gold  for  the  coinage  ?" 

"It  is  not  gold  I  would  coin,"  said  Law,  "but 
credit." 

"The  kingdom  hath  been  run  on  credit  for  these 
many  years." 


330  THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

"No,  'tis  not  that  kind  of  credit  that  I  mean. 
I  mean  the  credit  which  comes  of  confidence.  It  is 
fate,  necessity,  which  demands  a  new  system.  The 
world  has  grown  too  much  for  every  man  to  put 
his  sixpence  into  the  other  man's  hand,  and  carry 
away  in  a  basket  what  he  buys.  We  are  no  longer 
savages,  to  barter  beads  for  hides.  Yet  we  were 
as  savages,  did  we  not  come  to  realize  that  this  in 
sufficient  coin  must  be  replaced,  in  the  evolution 
of  affairs,  just  as  barter  has  long  ago  been  replaced." 

"And  by  what?" 

"As  I  said,  by  credit." 

"Do  not  annoy  me  by  things  too  deep,  but  rather 
suggest  some  definite  plan,  if  that  may  be." 

"First  of  all,  then,  as  I  said  to  you  years  ago, 
we  need  a  bank,  a  bank  in  which  all  the  people 
of  France  shall  have  absolute  confidence." 

"You  would,  then,  wish  a  charter  of  some  sort  ?" 

"Only  provided  your  Grace  shall  please.  I  have 
of  my  own  funds  a  half  million  livres  or  more. 
This  I  would  put  into  a  bank  of  general  nature,  if 
your  Grace  shall  please.  That  should  be  some  small 
guarantee  of  my  good  faith  in  these  plans." 

"Monsieur  L'as  would  seem  to  have  followed  play 
to  his  good  fortune." 

"Never  to  so  good  fortune  as  when  first  I  met 
your  Grace,"  replied  Law.  "I  have  given  to  games 


THE   REGENT'S   PROMISE  331 

of  chance  the  severest  thought  and  study.  Just  as 
much  more  have  I  given  thought  and  study  to  this 
enterprise  which  I  propose  now  to  lay  before  you." 

"And  you  ask  the  patent  of  the  Crown  for  your 
bank?" 

"It  were  better  if  the  institution  received  that 
open  endorsement." 

A  slow  frown  settled  upon  the  face  of  the  other. 
"That  is,  at  the  beginning,  impossible,  Monsieur 
L'as,"  said  the  regent.  "It  is  you  who  must  prove 
these  things  which  you  propose." 

"Let  it  be  so,  then,"  said  Law,  with  conviction. 
"I  make  no  doubt  I  shall  obtain  subscriptions  for 
the  shares.  Remember  my  words.  Within  a  few 
months  you  shall  see  trebled  the  energies  of  France. 
Money  is  the  only  thing  which  we  have  not  in  France. 
Why,  your  Grace,  suppose  the  collectors  of  taxes  in 
the  South  of  France  succeed  in  raising  the  king's 
levies.  That  specie  must  come  by  wheeled  vehicle 
all  the  way  to  Paris.  Consider  what  loss  of  time 
is  there,  and  consider  what  hindrance  to  the  trade 
of  the  provinces  from  which  so  much  specie  is  taken 
bodily,  and  to  which  it  can  return  later  only  a  little 
at  a  time.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  usury  is  eating 
up  France?  There  is  not  money  enough — it  is  the 
one  priceless  thing ;  by  which  I  mean  only  that  there 
is  not  belief,  not  confidence,  not  credit  enough  in 


332          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

France.  Now,  given  a  bank  which  holds  the  con 
fidence  of  the  people,  and  I  promise  the  king  his 
taxes,  even  as  I  promise  to  abolish  usury.  You 
shall  see  money  at  work,  money  begetting  money, 
and  that  begetting  trade,  and  that  producing  com 
fort,  and  comfort  making  easier  the  collection  of  the 
king's  taxes." 

"By  heaven !  you  begin  to  make  it  somewhat  more 
plain  to  me." 

"One  thing  I  beg  you  to  observe  most  carefully, 
your  Grace,"  said  Law,  "nor  must  it  ever  be  forgot 
ten  in  our  understanding.  The  shares  of  this  bank 
must  have  a  fixed  value  in  regard  to  the  coin  of  the 
realm.  There  must  be  no  altering  of  the  value  of 
our  coin.  Grant  that  the  coin  does  not  fluctuate, 
and  I  promise  you  that  my  bank  actions,  notes  of  the 
chief  bank  of  Paris,  shall  soon  be  found  better  than 
gold  or  silver  in  the  eyes  of  Prance.  Moreover, 
given  a  greater  safety  to  foreign  gold,  and  I  promise 
you  that  too  shall  pour  into  Paris  in  such  fashion 
as  has  never  yet  been  seen.  Moreover,  the  people 
will  follow  their  coin.  Paris  will  be  the  greatest 
capital  of  Europe.  This  I  promise  you  I  can  do." 

"In  effect,"  said  the  regent,  smiling,  "you  promise 
me  that  you  can  build  a  new  Paris,  a  new  world! 
Yet  much  of  this  I  can  in  part  believe  and  under 
stand,  Let  that  be  as  it  may.  The  immediate 


THE    REGENT'S    PROMISE  333 

truth  is  that  something  must  be  done,  and  done  at 
once." 

"Obviously/' 

"Our  public  debt  is  twenty-six  hundred  millions 
of  livres.  Its  annual  interest  is  eighty  millions  of 
livres.  We  can  not  pay  this  interest  alone,  not  to 
speak  of  the  principal.  Obviously,  as  you  say,  the 
matter  admits  of  no  delay.  Your  bank — why,  by 
heaven,  let  us  have  your  bank!  What  can  we  do 
without  your  bank?  Lastly,  how  quickly  can  we 
have  it?" 

"Sire,  you  make  me  the  happiest  man  in  all  the 
world!" 

"The  advantage  is  quite  otherwise,  sir.  But  my 
head  already  swims  with  figures.  Now  let  us  set 
the  rest  aside  until  to-morrow.  Meantime,  I  must 
confess  to  you,  my  dear  friend,  there  is  somewhat 
else  that  sits  upon  my  mind." 

A  change  came  upon  the  demeanor  of  his  Grace 
the  regent.  Laying  aside  the  dignity  of  the  ruler 
with  the  questions  of  state,  he  became  again  more 
nearly  that  Philippe  of  Orleans,  known  by  his  friends 
as  gay,  care  free  and  full  of  camaraderie. 

"Your  Grace,  could  I  be  of  the  least  personal 
service,  I  should  be  too  happy,"  said  Law. 

"Well,  then,  I  must  admit  to  you  that  this  is  a 
question  of  a  diamond." 


334          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

"Oh,  a  diamond?" 

"The  greatest  diamond  in  the  world.  Indeed, 
there  is  none  other  like  it,  and  never  will  be.  This 
Jew  hounds  me  to  death,  holding  up  the  thing 
before  mine  eyes.  Even  Saint  Simon,  that  prig 
gish  little  duke  of  ours,  tells  me  that  France  should 
have  this  stone,  that  it  is  a  dignity  which  should 
not  be  allowed  to  pass  away  from  her.  But  how  can 
France,  bankrupt  as  she  is,  afford  a  little  trifle 
which  costs  three  million  francs?  Three  million 
francs,  when  we  can  not  pay  eighty  millions  annual 
interest  on  our  debts !" 

"  'Tis  as  you  say,  somewhat  expensive,"  said  Law. 

"Naturally,  for  I  say  to  you  that  this  stone  had 
never  parallel  in  the  history  of  the  world.  It  seems 
that  this  overseer  in  the  Golconda  mines  got  posses 
sion  of  it  in  some  fashion,  and  escaped  to  Europe, 
hiding  the  stone  about  his  person.  It  has  been 
shown  in  different  parts  of  Europe,  but  no  one  yet 
has  been  able  to  meet  the  price  of  this  extortioner 
who  owns  it." 

"And  yet,  as  Saint  Simon  says,  there  is  no  dig 
nity  too  great  for  the  throne  of  France." 

"Yet,  meantime,  the  king  will  have  no  use  for 
it  for  several  years  to  come.  There  is  the  Sancy 
stone — " 

"And,  as  your  Grace  remembers,  this  new  stone 


THE   KEGENT'S    PEOMISE  335 

would  look  excellent  well  upon  a  woman  ?"  said  Law. 
He  gazed,  calm  and  unsmiling,  directly  into  the  eyes 
of  Philippe  of  Orleans. 

"Monsieur  L'as,  you  have  the  second  sight !"  cried 
the  latter,  unblushingly.  "You  have  genius.  May 
God  strike  me  blind  if  ever  I  have  seen  a  keener 
mind  than  thine !" 

"All  warm  blood  is  akin,"  replied  John  Law. 
"This  stone  is  perhaps  for  your  Grace's  best  be 
loved?" 

"Eh — ah — which  ?     As  you  know — " 

"Ah!  Perhaps  for  La  Parabere.  Eichly  enough 
she  deserves  it." 

"Ah,  Monsieur  L'as,  even  your  mind  is  at  fault 
now,"  cried  the  regent,  shaking  his  finger  exult- 
ingly.  "I  covet  this  new  stone,  not  for  Parabere 
nor  for  any  one  of  those  dear  friends  whom  you 
might  name,  and  whom  you  may  upon  occasion  have 
met  at  some  of  my  little  suppers.  It  is  for  another, 
whose  name  or  nature  you  can  not  guess." 

"Not  that  mysterious  beauty  of  whom  rumor  goes 
about  this  week,  the  woman  rated  surpassing  fair, 
who  has  lately  come  into  the  acquaintance  of  your 
Grace,  and  whom  your  Grace  has  concealed  as 
jealously  as  though  he  feared  to  lose  her  by  some 
highway  robbery?" 

"It  is  the  same,  I  must  admit !" 


336          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

Law  remained  thoughtful  for  a  time.  "I  make 
no  doubt  that  the  Hebrew  would  take  two  million 
francs  for  this  stone/'  said  he. 

"Perhaps,  but  two  millions  is  the  same  as  three 
millions/'  said  Philippe.  "The  question  is,  where 
to  get  two  millions." 

"As  your  Grace  has  said,  I  have  been  somewhat 
fortunate  at  play/'  replied  Law,  "but  I  must  say 
that  this  sum  is  beyond  me,  and  that  both  the  dia 
mond  and  the  bank  I  can  not  compass.  Yet,  your 
Grace  has  at  disposal  the  crown  jewels  of  France. 
Now,  beauty  is  the  sovereign  of  all  sovereigns,  as 
Philippe  of  Orleans  must  own.  To  beauty  belongs 
the  use  of  these  crown  jewels.  Place  them  as  secur 
ity,  and  borrow  the  two  millions.  For  myself,  I  shall 
take  pride  in  advancing  the  interest  on  the  sum 
for  a  certain  time,  until  such  occasion  as  the  treas 
ury  may  afford  the  price  of  this  trinket.  In  a  short 
time  it  will  be  able  to  do  so,  I  promise  your  Grace; 
indeed  able  to  buy  a  dozen  such  stones,  and  take  no 
thought  of  the  matter." 

"Monsieur  L'as,  do  you  actually  believe  these 
things?" 

"I  know  them." 

"And  you  can  secure  for  me  this  gem  ?" 

"Assuredly.  We  shall  have  it.  Let  it  be  called 
the  'Regent's  Diamond/  after  your  Grace  of  Orleans. 


THE   REGENT'S   PROMISE  337 

rAnd  when  the  king  shall  one  day  wear  it,  let  us 
hope  that  he  will  place  it  as  fitly  as  I  am  sure  your 
Grace  will  do,  on  the  brow  of  beauty — even  though 
it  be  beauty  unknown,  and  kept  concealed  under 
princely  prerogative !" 

"Ah!  You  are  too  keen,  Monsieur  L'as,  too  keen 
to  see  my  new  discovery.  Not  for  a  little  time 
shall  I  take  the  risk  of  introducing  this  fair  friend 
to  one  so  dangerous  as  yourself;  but  one  of  these 
times,  my  very  good  friend,  if  you  can  secure  for 
me  this  diamond,  you  shall  come  to  a  very  little 
supper,  and  see  where  for  a  time  I  shall  place  this 
gem,  as  you  say,  on  the  brow  of  beauty.  For  the 
sake  of  Monsieur  L'as,  head  magician  of  France, 
my  mysterious  alien  shall  then  unmask." 

"And  then  I  am  to  have  my  bank  ?" 

"Good  God,  yes,  a  thousand  banks !" 

"It  is  agreed?" 

"It  is  agreed/' 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  DAY  OF  MIRACLES 

The  regent  of  France  kept  his  promise  to  Law, 
and  the  latter  in  turn  fulfilled  his  prophecy  to  the 
regent.  Moreover,  he  swiftly  went  far  toward  ver 
ifying  his  boast  to  the  Lady  Catharine  Knollys; 
for  in  less  than  a  month  his  name  was  indeed  on 
every  tongue  in  Paris.  The  Banque  Generale  de  L'as 
et  Compagnie  was  seized  upon  by  the  public,  debtor 
and  creditor  alike,  as  the  one  new  thing,  and  hence  as 
the  only  salvation.  As  ever,  it  pleased  Paris  to  be 
mystified.  In  some  way  the  rumor  spread  about 
that  Monsieur  L'as  was  philosophique ;  that  the 
Banque  Generale  was  founded  upon  "philosophy." 
It  was  catch-word  sufficient  for  the  time. 

"Vive  Jean  L'as,  le  philosophe — Monsieur  L'as, 
he  who  has  saved  France!"  So  rang  the  cry  of 
the  shallow-witted  people  of  an  age  splendid  even 
in  its  contradictions.  And  meantime  the  new  bank, 
crudely  experimental  as  it  was,  flourished  as  though 
its  master  spirit  had  indeed  in  his  possession  the 
philosopher's  stone,  turning  all  things  to  gold. 
(338) 


A   DAY    OF    MIEACLES  339 

One  day,  shortly  after  the  beginning  of  that  bril 
liantly  spectacular  series  of  events  destined  so  soon 
to  make  Paris  the  Mecca  of  the  world,  there  sat  at 
table,  in  a  little,  obscure  cabaret  of  the  gay  city, 
a  group  of  persons  who  seemed  to  have  chosen  that 
spot  for  purposes  of  privacy.  Yet  privacy  was  dif 
ficult  where  all  the  curious  passers-by  stared  in 
amaze  at  the  great  coach  near  the  door,  half  filling 
the  narrow  and  unclean  street — a  vehicle  bearing 
the  arms  of  no  less  a  person  than  that  august  and 
unscrupulous  representative  of  the  French  nobility, 
the  Prince  de  Conti.  No  less  a  person  than  the 
prince  himself,  thin-faced,  aquiline  and  haughty,  sat 
at  this  table,  looking  about  him  like  any  common 
criminal  to  note  whether  his  speech  might  be  over 
heard.  Next  to  him  sat  a  hook-nosed  Jew  from  Aus 
tria,  Fraslin  by  name,  one  of  many  of  his  kind  gath 
ered  so  quickly  within  the  last  few  weeks  in  Paris, 
even  as  the  scent  of  carrion  fetches  ravens  to  the  feast. 
Another  of  the  party  was  a  man  of  middle  age,  of 
handsome,  calm,  patrician  features  and  an  unruf 
fled  mien — that  De  la  Chaise,  nephew  of  the  con 
fessor  of  Louis  the  Grand,  who  was  later  to  represent 
the  young  king  in  the  provinces  of  Louisiana. 

Near  by  the  latter,  and  indeed  the  central  figure 
of  this  gathering,  was  one  less  distinguished  than 
either  of  the  above,  evidently  neither  of  churchly 


342          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

river  of  Blue  Earth,  described  by  early  writers  as 
abounding  in  gold  and  gems." 

"Aye,  and  there  comes  the  strange  part  of  it, 
and  this  is  what  I  would  lay  before  your  Lordships, 
as  bearing  upon  the  value  of  the  shares  of  this 
new  bank,  since  it  is  taking  over  the  charter 
of  the  Company  of  the  West.  It  is  news  not  yet 
known  upon  the  street.  The  story  goes  that  the 
half  has  not  been  told  of  the  wealth  of  these 
provinces. 

"Now,  as  you  say,  L'Huillier  had  with  him  four 
ships,  and  it  is  well  known  that  his  gentlemen  had 
with  them  certain  ladies  of  distinction,  among  these 
a  mysterious  dame  reported  to  have  earlier  traveled 
in  portions  of  New  France.  The  name  of  this  mys 
terious  female  is  not  known,  save  that  she  is  reported 
to  have  been  a  good  friend  of  a  sous-lieutenant  of 
the  regiment  Carignan,  sometime  dweller  at  Quebec 
and  Montreal,  and  who  later  became  a  lieutenant 
under  L'Huillier.  It  is  said  that  this  same  mysteri 
ous  fair,  having  returned  from  America  and  having 
cast  aside  her  lieutenant,  has  come  under  protection 
of  no  less  a  person  than  his  Grace  Philippe  of  Or 
leans,  the  regent.  Now,  as  you  know,  the  bank  is 
the  best  friend  of  the  regent,  and  this  mysterious 
dame,  as  we  are  advised  by  servants  of  his  Grace's 
household,  hath  told  his  Grace  such  stories  of  the 


A   DAY    OF    MIEACLES  343 

wealth  of  the  Messasebe  that  he  has  secretly  and 
quickly  made  over  the  control  of  the  trade  of  those 
provinces  to  this  new  hank.  There  is  story  also 
that  his  Grace  himself  will  not  lack  profit  in  this 
movement  I" 

The  hand  of  Conti  smote  hard  upon  the  table. 
"By  heaven!  it  were  strange  thing/'  said  he,  "if 
this  foreign  traveler  should  prove  the  same  mysteri 
ous  beauty  Philippe  is  reported  to  have  kept  in 
hiding.  My  faith,  is  it  indeed  true  that  we  are  come 
upon  a  time  of  miracles  ?" 

"Listen !"  broke  in  again  Varenne,  his  ardor  over 
coming  his  obsequiousness.  "These  are  some  of  the 
tales  brought  back — and  reported  privately,  I  can 
assure  you,  gentlemen,  now  for  the  first  time  and 
to  yourselves.  The  people  of  this  country  are  said 
to  be  clad  in  beauteous  raiment,  made  of  skins,  of. 
grasses  and  of  the  barks  of  trees.  Their  ornaments 
are  made  of  pure,  yellow  gold,  and  of  precious  gems 
which  they  pick  up  from  the  banks  of  the  streams, 
as  common  as  pebbles  here  in  France.  The  climate 
is  such  that  all  things  grow  in  the  most  unrivaled 
fruitfulness.  There  is  neither  too  much  sun  nor 
too  much  rain.  The  lakes  and  rivers  are  vast  and 
beautiful,  and  the  forests  are  filled  with  myriads 
of  strange  and  sweet-voiced  birds.  JTis  said  that 
the  dream  of  Ponce  de  Leon  hath  been  realized, 


344          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

and  that  not  only  one,  but  scores  of  fountains  of 
youth  have  been  discovered  in  this  great  valley. 
The  people  are  said  never  to  grow  old.  Their  per 
sonal  beauty  is  of  surpassing  nature,  and  their  dis 
position  easy  and  complaisant  to  the  last  degree — " 

"My  faith,  say  on  I"  broke  in  De  la  Chaise.  "  'Tis 
surely  a  story  of  paradise  which  you  recount." 

"But,  listen,  gentlemen!  The  story  goes  yet  far 
ther.  As  to  mines  of  gold  and  silver,  'twas  matter 
of  report  that  such  mines  are  common  in  all  the 
valley  of  the  Messasebe.  Indeed  the  whole  surface 
of  the  earth,  in  some  parts,  is  covered  with  lumps 
of  gold,  so  that  the  natives  care  nothing  for  it. 
The  bottoms  of  the  streams,  the  beaches  of  the  lakes, 
'carry  as  many  particles  of  gold  as  they  have  pebbles 

and  little  stones.    As  for  silver,  none  take  note  of 

i 

it.  *  'Tis  used  as  building  stone." 

f  "In  the  name  of  Jehovah,  is  there  support  for 
these  wonders  you  have  spoken?"  broke  in  Fraslin 
the  Jew,  his  eyes  shining  with  suppressed  excite 
ment. 

"Assuredly.  Yet  I  am  telling  not  half  of  the 
news  which  came  to  my  knowledge  this  very  morn 
ing — the  story  is  said  to  have  emanated  from  the 
Palais  Eoyal  itself,  and  therefore,  no  doubt,  is  to 
be  traced  to  this  same  unknown  queen  of  the  Mes- 


A    DAY    OF    MIRACLES  345 

sasebe.  She  reports,  so  it  is  said,  that  beyond  the 
country  where  L'Huillier  secured  his  cargo  of  blue 
earth,  there  is  a  land  where  grows  a  most  peculiar 
plant.  The  meadows  and  fields  are  covered  with  it, 
and  it  is  said  that  the  dews  of  night,  which  gather 
within  the  petals  of  these  flowers,  become,  in  the 
course  of  a  single  day,  nothing  less  than  a  solid 
diamond  stone!  From  this  in  time  the  leaves  drop 
down,  leaving  the  diamond  exposed  there,  shining 
and  radiant." 

"Ah,  bah!"  broke  in  Fraslin  the  Jew.  "Why  be 
lieve  such  babblings  ?  We  all  know  that  the  diamond 
is  a  product  not  of  the  vegetable  but  of  the  mineral 
world!" 

"So  have  we  known  many  things,"  stoutly  replied 
Varenne,  "only  to  find  ourselves  frequently  mistaken. 
Now  for  my  part,  a  diamond  is  a  diamond,  be  it 
born  in  a  flower  or  broken  from  a  rock.  And  as 
for  the  excellence  of  these  stones,  'tis  rumored  that 
the  lady  hath  abundant  proof.  "Tis  no  wonder  that 
the  natives  of  the  valley  of  the  Messasebe  robe  them 
selves  in  silks,  and  that  they  deck  themselves  care 
lessly  with  precious  stones,  as  would  a  peasant  of 
ours  with  a  chain  of  daisy  blossoms.  Now,  if  there 
be  such  wealth  as  this,  is  it  not  easy  to  see  the  profit 
of  a  bank  which  controls  the  trade  with  such  a 


346          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

province?  True,  there  have  been  some  discoveries 
in  this  valley,  but  nothing  thorough.  'Tis  but  recent 
the  thing  hath  been  done  thorough." 

The  Prince  de  Conti  sat  back  in  his  chair  and  drew 
a  long  breath.  "If  these  things  be  true,"  said  he, 
"then  this  Monsieur  L'as  is  not  so  bad  a  leader  to 
follow." 

"But  listen!"  exclaimed  Varenne  once  more. 
"I  have  not  even  yet  told  you  the  most  important 
thing,  and  this  is  rumor  which  perhaps  your  Grace 
has  caught.  'Tis  whispered  that  the  bank  of  the 
brothers  L'as  is  within  a  fortnight  to  be  changed." 

"What  is  that?"  queried  Fraslin  quickly.  "'Tis 
not  to  be  abandoned  ?" 

"By  no  means.  Abandoned  would  be  quite  the 
improper  word.  'Tis  to  be  improved,  expanded,  in 
creased,  magnified!  My  Lords,  there  is  the  oppor 
tunity  of  a  life-time  for  every  one  of  us  here !" 

"Say  on,  man,  say  on!"  commanded  the  prince, 
the  covetousness  of  his  soul  shining  in  his  eyes  as 
he  leaned  forward. 

"I  mean  to  say  this,"  and  the  spy  lowered  his  voice 
as  he  looked  anxiously  about.  "The  regent  hath 
taken  a  fancy  to  be  chief  owner  himself  of  an  enter 
prise  so  profitable.  In  fine,  the  Banque  Generale 
is  to  become  the  Banque  Eoyale.  His  Majesty  of 
France,  represented  by  his  Grace  the  regent,  is  to 


A    DAY    OF    MIRACLES  347 

become  the  head  banker  of  France  and  Europe! 
Monsieur  L'as  is  to  be  retained  as  director-general 
of  this  Banque  Royale.  There  are  to  be  branches 
fixed  in  different  cities  of  the  realm,  at  Lyons,  at 
Tours,  at  Amiens,  at  Eochelle,  at  Orleans — in  fact, 
all  France  is  to  go  upon  a  different  footing." 

The  glances  of  the  Prince  de  Conti  and  the  Aus 
trian  met  each  other.  The  Jew  drew  a  long  breath 
as  he  sat  back  in  his  chair,  his  hands  grasping  at  the 
edge  of  the  table.  Try  as  he  might,  he  scarce  could 
keep  his  chin  from  trembling.  He  licked  out  his 
tongue  to  moisten  his  lips. 

"There  is  so  much/'  resumed  Varenne,  "that  'tis 
hard  to  tell  it  all.  But  you  must  know  that  this 
Banque  Royale  will  be  still  more  powerful  than  the 
old  one.  There  will  be  incorporated  with  it,  not 
only  the  Company  of  the  West,  but  also  the  Gen 
eral  Company  of  the  Indies,  as  you  know,  the  most 
considerable  mercantile  enterprise  of  France.  Now 
listen !  Within  the  first  year  the  Banque  Royale 
will  issue  one  thousand  million  livres  in  notes.  This 
embodiment  of  the  Compagnie  Generate  of  the  Indies 
will  warrant,  as  I  know  by  the  secret  plans  of  the 
bank,  the  issue  of  notes  amounting  to  two  billion 
livres.  Therefore,  as  Monsieur  de  la  Chaise  sig 
nifies,  he  who  is  lucky  enough  to-day  to  own  a  few 
actions  of  the  Banque  Royale,  or  even  the  old  actions 


348          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

of  Monsieur  I/as'  bank,  which  will  be  redeemed 
by  its  successor,  is  in  a  way  to  gain  greater  sums 
than  were  ever  seen  on  the  face  of  any  investment 
from  the  beginning  of  the  world  until  to-day ! 
Now,  as  I  was  about  to  ask  of  you,  Monsieur  Fras- 
lin— " 

The  speaker  turned  in  his  chair  to  where  Fraslin 
had  been  but  a  moment  before.  The  chair  was 
empty. 

"Our  friend  stepped  to  the  door  but  on  the  in 
stant,"  said  De  la  Chaise.  "He  is  perhaps — " 

"That  he  has,"  cried  Varenne.  "He  is  the  first 
of  us  to  profit!  Monsieur  le  Prince,  in  virtue  of 
what  I  have  said  to  you,  if  you  could  favor  me  with 
an  advance  of  a  few  hundred  louis,  I  could  assure 
my  family  of  independence.  Monsieur  le  Prince! 
Monsieur  le  Prince — " 

Monsieur  le  Prince,  however,  was  not  so  far  behind 
the  Austrian!  Varenne  followed  him,  tugging  at 
his  coat,  but  Conti  shook  him  off,  sprang  into  his 
carriage  and  was  away. 

"To  the  Place  Vendome!"  he  cried  to  his  coach 
man,  "and  hasten!" 

De  la  Chaise,  aristocratic,  handsome  and  thick- 
witted,  remained  alone  at  the  table,  wondering  what 
was  the  cause  of  this  sudden  commotion.  Varenne 
re-appeared  at  the  door  wringing  his  hands. 


A   DAY   OF   MIEACLES  349 

"What  is  it,  my  friend?"  asked  De  la  Chaise. 
"Why  all  this  haste?  Why  this  confusion?" 

"Nothing!"  exclaimed  Varenne,  bitterly,  "except 
that  every  minute  of  this  day  is  worth  a  million 
francs.  Man,  do  you  know?" — and  in  his  frenzy 
he  caught  De  la  Chaise  by  the  collar  and  half  shook 
him  out  of  his  usual  calm — "man,  can  you  not  see 
that  Jean  L'as  has  brought  revolution  into  Paris? 
Oh!  This  L'as,  this  devil  of  a  L'as!  A  thousand 
louis,  my  friend,  a  hundred,  ten — give  me  but  ten 
louis,  and  I  will  make  you  rich !  A  day  of  miracles 
is  here !" 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  GREATEST  NEED 

There  sprang  now  with  incredible  swiftness  up 
ward  and  outward  an  Aladdin  edifice  of  illusion. 
It  was  as  though  indeed  this  genius  who  had  waved 
his  wand  and  bidden  this  fairy  palace  of  chimera  to 
arise,  had  used  for  his  material  the  intangible,  irides 
cent  film  of  bubbles,  light  as  air.  Wider  and  wider 
spread  the  balloon  of  phantasm.  Higher  and  higher 
it  floated,  on  it  fixed  the  eyes  of  France.  And 
France  laughed,  and  asked  that  yet  other  bubbles 
should  be  blown. 

All  France  was  mad,  and  to  its  madness  there  was 
joined  that  of  all  Europe.  The  population  of  Paris 
doubled.  The  prices  of  labor  and  commodities 
trebled  in  a  day.  There  was  now  none  willing  to 
be  called  artisan.  Every  man  was  broker  in  stocks. 
Bubbles,  bubbles,  dreams,  fantasies — these  were  the 
things  all  carried  in  their  hands  and  in  their  hearts. 
These  made  the  object  of  their  desire,  of  their 
pursuit  unimaginably  passionate  and  frenzied. 

With  a  leap  from  the  somberness  of  the  reign  of 
(350) 


THE    GEEATEST    NEED  351 

Louis,  all  France  went  to  the  extreme  of  levity.  Cos 
tumes  changed.  Manners,  but  late  devout,  grew 
debonair.  Morals,  once  lax,  now  grew  yet  more  lax. 
The  blaze  and  tinsel,  the  music  and  the  rouge,  the 
wine,  the  flowing,  uncounted  gold — all  Paris  might 
have  been  called  a  golden  brothel  of  delirious  de 
light,  tenanted  by  a  people  utterly  gone  mad. 

It  was  a  house  made  of  bubbles.  Its  domes  were 
of  bubbles.  Its  roof  was  of  bubbles,  and  its  walls. 
Its  windows  were  of  that  nacreous  film.  Even  its 
foundations  had  naught  in  them  more  substantial 
than  an  evanescent  dream  of  gauze-like  web,  frail 
as  the  spider's  house  upon  the  dew-hung  grasses. 

Yet  as  to  this  latter,  there  should  be  somewhat 
of  qualification.  The  wizard  who  created  this  fairy 
structure  saw  it  swiftly  grow  beyond  its  original  plan, 
saw  unforeseen  results  spring  from  those  causes  which 
were  first  well  within  his  comprehension. 

Berated  by  later  generations  as  an  adventurer,  a 
schemer,  a  charlatan,  Law  originally  deserved  any 
thing  but  such  a  verdict  of  his  public.  Dishonest  he 
was  not,  insincere  he  never  was ;  and  as  a  student  of 
fundamentals,  he  was  in  advance  of  his  age,  which  is 
ever  to  be  accursed.  His  method  was  but  the  fore 
runner  of  the  modern  commercial  system,  which 
is  of  itself  to-day  but  a  tougher  faith  bubble,  as 
may  be  seen  in  all  the  changing  cycles  of  finance 


352          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

and  trade.  His  bank  was  but  a  portion  of  a  nobler 
dream.  His  system  was  but  one  vast  belief,  one 
glorious  hope. 

The  Company  of  the  West — this  it  was  that  made 
John  Law's  heart  throb.  America — its  trade — its 
future!  John  Law,  dead  now  and  gone — he  was 
the  colossal  pioneer !  He  saw  in  his  dreams  what  we 
see  to-day  in  reality ;  and  no  bubble  of  all  the  fren 
zied  Paris  streets  equaled  this  splendid  dream  of  a 
renewed  and  revived  humanity  that  is  a  fact  to-day. 

But  there  came  to  this  dreamer  and  doer,  at  the 
very  door  of  his  success,  that  which  arrested  him 
even  upon  his  entering  in.  There  came  the  prelimi 
nary  blow  which  in  a  flash  his  far-seeing  mind  knew 
was  to  mean  ultimate  ruin.  In  a  word,  the  loose 
principles  of  a  dissolute  man  were  to  ruin  France, 
and  with  it  one  who  had  once  saved  France  from 
ruin. 

Philippe  of  Orleans  .found  it  ever  difficult  to  say 
no  to  a  friend,  and  more  so  if  that  friend  were  a 
woman;  and  of  the  latter  sort,  none  had  more  than 
he.  Men  and  women  alike,  these  could  all  see  only 
this  abundance  of  money  made  of  paper.  What, 
then,  was  to  prevent  the  regent,  all  powerful,  from 
printing  more  and  yet  more  of  it,  and  giving  it  to 
his  friends?  The  regent  did  so.  Never  were  mis 
tresses  better  paid  than  those  of  Philippe  of  Orleans, 


THE    GREATEST    NEED  353 

receiving  in  effect  faithlessness  in  return  for  in 
sincerity. 

Philippe  of  Orleans  could  not  see  why,  since  credit 
based  on  specie  made  possible  a  great  volume  of 
accepted  notes,  a  credit  based  on  all  France  might 
not  warrant  an  indefinite  issue  of  such  notes.  He 
offered  his  director-general  all  the  concessions  which 
the  crown  could  give,  all  the  revenue-producing  ele 
ments  of  France — in  effect,  all  France  itself,  as 
security.  In  return  he  asked  but  the  small  privi 
lege  of  printing  for  himself  as  much  money  as 
he  chose  and  whenever  he  saw  fit ! 

The  notes  of  the  private  bank  of  Law  were  an 
absolute  promise  to  pay  a  certain  and  definite  sum, 
not  a  changeable  or  indefinite  sum ;  and  Law  made  it 
a  part  of  his  published  creed  that  any  banker  was 
worthy  of  death  who  issued  notes  without  having  the 
specie  wherewith  to  pay  them.  He  insisted  that 
the  payment  should  mean  specie  in  the  value  of  the 
day  on  which  the  note  was  issued.  This  item  the 
regent  liked  little,  as  being  too  irksome  for  his 
temper.  Was  it  not  of  record  how  Louis,  the  Grand 
Monarque,  had  twice  made  certain  millions  for  him 
self  by  the  simple  process  of  changing  the  value 
of  the  coin?  Dicing,  drinking,  amorous  Philippe, 
easy-going,  shallow-thinking,  truly  wert  thou  better 
fitted  for  a  throne  than  for  a  banker's  chair ! 


354          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

The  royal  bank,  which  the  regent  himself  hastened 
to  foster  when  he  saw  the  profits  of  the  first  private 
bank  of  circulation  and  discount  France  had  ever 
known,  issued  notes  against  which  Law  entered  im 
mediately  his  firm  protest.  He  saw  that  their  tenor 
spelled  ruin  for  the  whole  system  of  finance  which, 
at  such  labor,  he  had  erected.  These  notes  prom 
ised  to  pay,  for  instance,  fifty  livres  "in  silver  coin," 
not  "in  coin  of  the  weight  and  standard  of  this  day," 
as  had  the  honester  notes  of  Law's  bank.  That  is 
to  say,  the  notes  meant  nothing  sure  and  nothing 
definite.  They  might  be  money  for  a  time,  but  not 
forever ;  and  this  the  director-general  was  too  shrewd 
a  man  not  to  know. 

"But  under  this  issue  you  shall  have  all  France," 
said  the  regent  to  him  one  day,  as  they  renewed 
their  discussion  yet  again  upon  this  scheme.  "You 
shall  have  the  farming  of  the  taxes.  I  will  give  yotf 
all  the  foreign  trade  as  monopoly,  if  you  like — 
will  give  you  the  mint — will  give  you,  in  effect,  as 
I  have  said,  all  France.  But,  Monsieur  my  director- 
general,  I  must  have  money.  It  is  for  that  pur 
pose  that  I  appoint  you  director-general — because 
I  find  you  the  most  remarkable  man  in  all  the 
world." 

"Your  Grace,"  said  Law,  "print  your  notes  thus, 
and  print  them  to  such  extent  as  you  wish,  and 


THE    GREATEST    NEED  355 

France  is  again  worse  than  bankrupt!  Then,  in 
deed,  you  have  worse  than  repudiated  the  debts  of 
France." 

"Ah  bah!  mon  drole!  You  are  ill  to-day.  You 
have  a  migraine,  perhaps?  What  folly  for  you  to 
speak  thus.  France  hath  swiftly  grown  so  strong 
that  she  can  never  again  be  ruined.  What  ails  nay 
magician,  my  Prince  of  Golconda,  this  morning? 
France  bankrupt!  Even  were  it  so,  does  that  re 
lieve  me  of  this  begging  of  De  Prie,  of  Parabere, 
and  all  the  others?  My  God,  Monsieur  L'as,  they 
are  like  leeches!  They  think  me  made  of  money.'* 

"And  your  Grace  thinks  France  made  of  money/' 

"Nay;  I  only  think  my  director-general  is  made 
of  money,  or  can  make  it  as  he  likes." 

And  this  was  ever  the  end  of  Law's  reproaches  and 
his  expostulations.  This,  then,  was  to  be  the  end 
of  his  glorious  enterprises,  thought  he,  as  he  sat 
one  morning,  staring  out  of  the  window  when  left 
alone.  This  sordid  love  for  money  for  its  own 
sake — this  was  to  be  the  limit  of  an  ambition  which 
dealt  in  theories,  in  men,  in  nations,  and  not  in  livres 
and  louis  d'or!  Law  smiled  bitterly.  For  an  in 
stant  he  was  not  the  confident  man  of  action  and  of 
affairs,  not  the  man  claiming  with  assurance  the 
perpetual  protection  of  good  fortune.  He  sat  there, 
alone,  feeling  nothing  but  the  great  human  craving 


354          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

The  royal  bank,  which  the  regent  himself  hastened 
to  foster  when  he  saw  the  profits  of  the  first  private 
bank  of  circulation  and  discount  France  had  ever 
known,  issued  notes  against  which  Law  entered  im 
mediately  his  firm  protest.  He  saw  that  their  tenor 
spelled  ruin  for  the  whole  system  of  finance  which, 
at  such  labor,  he  had  erected.  These  notes  prom 
ised  to  pay,  for  instance,  fifty  livres  "in  silver  coin," 
not  "in  coin  of  the  weight  and  standard  of  this  day," 
as  had  the  honester  notes  of  Law's  bank.  That  is 
to  say,  the  notes  meant  nothing  sure  and  nothing 
definite.  They  might  be  money  for  a  time,  but  not 
forever ;  and  this  the  director-general  was  too  shrewd 
a  man  not  to  know. 

"But  under  this  issue  you  shall  have  all  France," 
said  the  regent  to  him  one  day,  as  they  renewed 
their  discussion  yet  again  upon  this  scheme.  "You 
shall  have  the  farming  of  the  taxes.  I  will  give  you 
all  the  foreign  trade  as  monopoly,  if  you  like — 
will  give  you  the  mint — will  give  you,  in  effect,  as 
I  have  said,  all  France.  But,  Monsieur  my  director- 
general,  I  must  have  money.  It  is  for  that  pur 
pose  that  I  appoint  you  director-general — because 
I  find  you  the  most  remarkable  man  in  all  the 
world." 

"Your  Grace,"  said  Law,  "print  your  notes  thus, 
and  print  them  to  such  extent  as  you  wish,  and 


THE    GKEATEST   NEED  355 

France  is  again  worse  than  bankrupt!  Then,  in 
deed,  you  have  worse  than  repudiated  the  debts  of 
France." 

"Ah  bah!  mon  drole!  You  are  ill  to-day.  You 
have  a  migraine,  perhaps?  What  folly  for  you  to 
speak  thus.  France  hath  swiftly  grown  so  strong 
that  she  can  never  again  be  ruined.  What  ails  my 
magician,  my  Prince  of  Golconda,  this  morning? 
France  bankrupt!  Even  were  it  so,  does  that  re 
lieve  me  of  this  begging  of  De  Prie,  of  Parabere, 
and  all  the  others?  My  God,  Monsieur  L'as,  they 
are  like  leeches!  They  think  me  made  of  money." 

"And  your  Grace  thinks  France  made  of  money." 

"Nay;  I  only  think  my  director-general  is  made 
of  money,  or  can  make  it  as  he  likes." 

And  this  was  ever  the  end  of  Law's  reproaches  and 
his  expostulations.  This,  then,  was  to  be  the  end 
of  his  glorious  enterprises,  thought  he,  as  he  sat 
one  morning,  staring  out  of  the  window  when  left 
alone.  This  sordid  love  for  money  for  its  own 
sake — this  was  to  be  the  limit  of  an  ambition  which 
dealt  in  theories,  in  men,  in  nations,  and  not  in  livres 
and  louis  d'or!  Law  smiled  bitterly.  For  an  in 
stant  he  was  not  the  confident  man  of  action  and  of 
affairs,  not  the  man  claiming  with  assurance  the 
perpetual  protection  of  good  fortune.  He  sat  there, 
alone,  feeling  nothing  but  the  great  human  craving 


356          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

for  sympathy  and  trust.  A  line  of  carriages  swept 
back  across  the  street  at  his  window,  and  streams 
of  nobles  besought  entrance  at  his  door.  And  the 
man  who  had  called  out  all  these,  the  man  for  whose 
friendship  all  Europe  clamored — that  man  sat  with 
aching  heart,  longing,  craving,  begging  now  of  for 
tune  only  the  one  thing — a  friend ! 

At  last  he  arose,  his  face  showing  lean  and 
haggard.  He  passed  into  another  room. 

"Will,"  said  he,  "I  am  at  a  place  where  I  am  dizzy 
and  need  a  hand.  You  know  what  hand  it  means 
for  me.  Can  you  go — will  you  take  her,  as  you  did 
once  before  for  me,  a  message?  I  can  not  go.  I 
can  not  venture  into  her  presence.  Will  you  go? 
Tell  her  it  is  the  last  time!  Tell  her  it  is  the 
last!" 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  MIRACLE  UNWEOUGHT 

"You  do  not  know  my  brother,  Lady  Catharine." 

Thus  spoke  Will  Law,  who  had  been  admitted  but 
a  half  hour  since  at  the  great  door  of  the  private 
hotel  where  dwelt  the  Lady  Catharine  Knollys. 

"  'Twould  seem,  then,  'tis  by  no  fault  of  his/'  re 
plied  Lady  Catharine,  hotly. 

"And  is  that  not  well  ?  There  are  many  in  Paris 
who  would  fain  change  places  with  you,  Lady  Catha 
rine." 

"Would  heaven  they  might!"  exclaimed  she. 
"Would  that  my  various  friends,  or  the  prefect  of 
police,  or  heaven  knows  who  that  may  have  spread 
the  news  of  my  acquaintance  with  your  brother, 
would  take  me  out  of  that  acquaintance!" 

"They  might  hold  his  friendship  a  high  honor/' 
said  Will. 

"Oh,  an  honor !  Excellent  well  comes  this  distin 
guished  honor.  Sirrah,  carriages  block  my  street, 
filled  with  those  who  beseech  my  introduction  to 
John  Law.  I  am  waylaid  if  I  step  abroad,  by 
(357) 


358          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

women — persons  of  quality,  ladies  of  the  realm,  God 
knoweth  what — and  they  beg  of  me  the  favor  of  an 
introduction  to  John  Law!  There  seems  spread,  I 
know  not  how,  a  silly  rumor  of  the  child  Kate. 
And  though  I  did  scarce  more  than  name  a  convent 
for  her  attendance,  there  are  now  out  all  manner 
of  reports  of  Monsieur  John  Law's  child,  and — what 
do  I  say — 'tis  monstrous!  I  protest  that  I  have 
come  closer  than  I  care  into  the  public  thoughts  with 
this  prodigy,  this  John  Law,  whose  favor  is  sought 
by  every  one.  Honor ! — 'tis  not  less  than  outrage !" 

"'Tis  but  argument  that  my  brother  is  a  person 
not  without  note." 

"But  granted.  'We  have  seen  his  carriage  at  your 
curb/  they  say.  I  insist  that  it  is  a  mistake.  'But 
we  saw  him  come  from  your  door  at  such  and  such 
an  hour.'  If  he  came,  'twas  but  for  meeting  such 
answer  as  I  have  always  given  him.  Will  they  never 
believe — will  your  brother  himself  never  believe 
that,  though  did  he  have,  as  he  himself  says,  all 
France  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,  he  could  be  noth 
ing  to  me?  Now  I  will  make  an  end  to  this.  I 
will  leave  Paris." 

"Madam,  you  might  not  be  allowed,  to  go." 

"What!  I  not  allowed  to  go!  And  what  would 
hinder  a  Knollys  of  Banbury  from  going  when  the 
hour  shall  arrive?" 


THE    MIRACLE    UNWROUGHT        359 

"The  regent." 

"And  why  the  regent?" 

"Because  of  my  brother." 

"Your  brother !" 

"Assuredly.  My  brother  is  to-day  king  of  Paris. 
If  he  liked  he  could. keep  you  prisoner  in  Paris. 
My  brother  does  as  he  chooses.  He  could  abolish 
Parliament  to-morrow  if  he  chose.  My  brother  can 
do  all  things — except  to  win  from  you,  Lady  Catha 
rine,  one  word  of  kindness,  of  respect.  Now,  then, 
he  has  come  to  the  end.  He  told  me  to  come  to 
you  and  bear  his  word.  He  told  me  to  say  to  you 
that  this  is  the  last  time  he  will  importune,  the  last 
time  that  he  will  implore.  Oh,  Lady  Catharine ! 
Once  before  I  carried  to  you  a  message  from  John 
Law — from  John  Law,  not  in  distress  then  more 
than  he  is  now,  even  in  this  hour  of  his  success." 

Lady  Catharine  paled  as  she  sank  back  into  her 
seat.  Her  white  hand  caught  at  the  lace  at  her 
throat.  Her  eyes  grew  dark  in  their  emotion. 

"Yes,  Madam,"  went  on  Will  Law,  tears  shining 
in  his  own  eyes,  "'twas  I,  an  unfaithful  messenger, 
who,  by  an  error,  wrought  ruin  for  my  brother  and 
for  yourself,  even  as  I  did  for  myself.  Madam, 
hear  me !  I  would  be  a  better  messenger  to-day." 

Lady  Catharine  sat  still  silent,  her  bosom  heaving, 
her  eyes  gone  wide  and  straining. 


360          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

"I  have  seen  my  brother  weep,"  said  Will,  going 
on  impulsively.  "I  have  seen  him  walk  the  floor 
at  night,  have  heard  him  cry  out  to  himself.  They 
call  him  crazed.  Indeed  he  is  crazed.  Yet  'tis  but 
for  one  word  from  you." 

"Sir,"  said  Lady  Catharine,  struggling  to  gain 
self-control,  and  in  spite  of  herself  softened  by  this 
appeal,  "you  speak  well." 

"If  I  do,  'tis  but  because  I  am  the  mouth-piece 
of  a  man  who  all  his  life  has  sought  to  speak  the 
truth;  who  has  sought — yes,  I  say  to  you  even 
now,  Lady  Catharine — who  has  sought  always  to 
live  the  truth.  This  I  say  in  spite  of  all  that  we 
both  know." 

There  came  no  reply  from  the  woman,  who  sat 
still  looking  at  him,  not  yet  moved  by  the  voice  of  the 
proxy  as  she  might  then  have  been  by  the  voice  of 
that  proxy's  principal.  Vehemently  the  young  man, 
ordinarily  so  timid  and  diffident,  approached  her. 

"Look  you!"  exclaimed  he.  "If  my  brother  said 
he  could  lay  France  at  your  feet,  by  heaven !  he 
can  well-nigh  do  so  now.  See!  Here  are  some  of 
the  properties  he  has  lately  purchased  in  the  realm 
of  France.  The  Marquisat  d'Effiat — 'tis  worth  eight 
hundred  thousand  livres;  the  estate  of  Riviere — 
worth  nine  hundred  thousand  livres;  the  estate  of 
Roissy — worth  six  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  livres ; 


the  estates  of  Berville,  of  Fontaine,  of  Yville,  of  Ger- 
ponville,  of  Tancarville,  of  Guermande — the  tale  runs 
near  a  score !  Lately  my  brother  has  purchased  the 
Hotel  Mazarin,  and  the  property  at  Rue  Vivienne, 
paying  for  them  one  million  two  hundred  thousand 
livres.  He  has  other  city  properties,  houses  in  Paris, 
estates  here  and  there,  running  not  into  the  hun 
dreds  of  thousands,  but  into  the  millions  of  livres 
in  actual  value.  Among  these  are  some  of  the 
estates  of  the  greatest  nobles  of  France.  Their  value 
is  more  than  any  man  can  compute.  Is  this  not 
something  ?  Moreover,  there  goes  with  it  all  the  dig 
nity  of  the  most  stupendous  personal  success  ever 
made  by  a  single  man  since  the  world  began.  "Pis 
all  yours,  Lady  Catharine.  And  unless  you  share 
it,  it  has  no  value  to  my  brother.  I  know  myself 
that  he  will  fling  it  all  away,  calling  it  worthless, 
since  he  can  not  have  that  greatest  fortune  which 
he  craves !" 

"Sirrah,  I  have  entertained  much  speech'  of  both 
yourself  and  your  brother,  because  I  would  not  seem 
ungracious  nor  forgetful.  Yet  this  paying  of 
court  by  means  of  figures,  by  virtue  of  lists  of  estates 
— do  you  not  know  how  ineffectual  this  must 
seem  ?" 

"If  you  could  but  undestand!"  cried  Will.  "If 
you  could  but  believe  that  there  is  none  on  earth 


362          THE   MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

values  these  less  than  my  brother.  Under  all  this 
he  has '  yet  greater  dreams.  His  ambition  is  to 
awaken  an  old  world  and  to  build  a  new  one.  By 
heaven !  Lady  Catharine,  I  am  asked  to  speak  for 
my  brother,  and  so  I  shall!  These  are  his  ambi 
tions.  First  of  all,  Lady  Catharine,  you.  Second, 
America.  Third,  a  people  for  America — a  people 
who  may  hope!  Oh,  I  admit  all  the  folly  of  his 
life.  He  played  deep,  yet  'twas  but  to  forget  you. 
He  drank,  but  'twas  to  forget  you.  Foolish  he  was, 
as  are  all  men.  Now  he  succeeds,  and  finds  he  can 
not  forget  you.  I  have  told  you  his  ambitions, 
Madam,  and  though  others  may  never  know  nor 
acknowledge  them,  you,  at  least,  must  do  so.  And 
I  beg  you  to  remember,  Madam,  that  of  all  his 
ambitions,  'twas  you,  Lady  Catharine,  your  favor, 
your  kindness,  your  mercy,  that  made  his  first  and 
chief  desire." 

"As  for  that,"  said  the  woman,  somewhat  scorn 
fully,  "if  you  please,  I  had  rather  I  received  my  pro 
testations  direct;  and  your  brother  knows  I  forbid 
him  further  protestations.  He  has,  it  is  true, 
raised  some  considerable  noise  by  way  of  enterprises. 
That  I  might  know,  even  did  I  not  see  this  horde 
of  dukes  and  duchesses  and  princes  of  the  blood, 
clamoring  for  the  recognition  of  even  his  remotest 


THE    MIRACLE   UNWROUGHT        363 

friends.  I  know,  too,  that  he  is  accepted  as  a 
hero  by  the  people." 

"And  well  he  may  be.  Coachmen  and  valets  have 
liveries  of  their  own  these  days.  Servants  now  eat 
from  plate,  and  clerks  have  their  own  coaches. 
Paris  is  packed  with  people,  and,  look  you,  they 
are  people  no  longer  clamoring  for  bread.  Who 
has  done  this?  Why,  my  brother,  John  Law  of 
Lauriston,  Lady  Catharine,  who  loves  you,  and  loves 
you  dearly." 

The  old  wrinkle  of  perplexity  gathered  between 
the  brows  of  the  woman  before  him.  Her  face  was 
clouded,  the  changeful  eyes  now  deep  covered  by 
their  lids. 

Lacking  the  precise  word  for  that  crucial  mo 
ment,  Will  Law  broke  further  on  into  material  de 
tails.  "To  be  explicit,  as  I  have  said,"  resumed 
he,  "everything  seems  to  center  about  my  brother, 
the  director-general  of  finance.  He  took  the  old 
notes  of  the  government,  worth  not  half  their  face, 
and  in  a  week  made  them  treble  their  face  value. 
The  king  owes  him  over  one  hundred  million  livres 
to-day.  My  brother  has  taken  over  the  farming  of 
the  royal  taxes.  And  now  he  forms  a  little  Com 
pany  of  the  Indies;  and  to  this  he  adds  the  charter 
of  the  Senegal  .Company.  Not  content,  he  adds 


364          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

the  entire  trade  of  the  Indies,  of  China  and  the 
South  Seas.  He  has  been  given  the  privilege  of 
the  royal  farming  of  tobacco,  for  which  he  pays  the 
king  the  little  trifle  of  two  hundred  million  livres, 
and  assures  to  the  king  certain  interest  moneys, 
which,  I  need  not  say,  the  king  will  actually  obtain. 
In  addition  to  these  things,  he  has  lately  been  given 
the  mint  of  France.  The  whole  coinage  of  the 
realm  has  been  made  over  to  this  Company  of  the 
Indies.  My  brother  pays  the  king  fifty  million 
livres  for  this  privilege,  and  this  he  will  do  within 
fifteen  months.  All  France  is  indeed  in  the  hands 
of  my  brother.  Now,  call  John  Law  an  adventurer, 
a  gambler,  if  you  will,  and  if  you  can;  but  at  least 
admit  that  he  has  given  life  and  hope  to  the 
poor  of  France,  that  he  has  given  back  to  the 
king  a  people  which  was  despoiled  and  ruined  by 
the  former  king.  He  has  trebled  the  trade  of 
France,  he  has  saved  her  honor,  and  opened  to  her 
the  avenues  of  a  new  world.  Are  these  things  noth 
ing?  They  have  all  been  done  by  my  brother,  this 
man  whom  you  believe  incapable  of  faith  and  con 
stancy.  Good  God!  It  surely  seems  that  he  has 
at  least  been  constant  to  himself !" 

"Oh,  I  hear  talk  of  it  all.  I  hear  that  a  share 
in  the  new  company  promises  dividends  of  two 
hundred  livres.  I  hear  talk  of  shares  and  'sub- 


THE    MIEACLE    OTWROUGHT        365 

shares/  called  'mothers/  and  'daughters/  and  'grand 
daughters/  and  I  know  not  what.  It  seems  as  though 
half  the  coin  were  divided  into  centimes,  and  as 
though  each  centime  had  been  planted  by  your 
brother  and  had  grown  to  be  worth  a  thousand 
pounds.  I  admit  somewhat  of  knowledge  of  these 
miracles." 

"True,  Lady  Catharine.  Can  there  not  be  one 
miracle  more?" 

Lady  Catharine  Knollys  bent  her  face  forward 
upon  her  hands,  unhappiness  in  every  gesture. 

"Sir,"  said  she,  "it  grieves  my  heart  to  say  it; 
yet  this  answer  you  must  take  to  your  brother,  John 
Law.  That  miracle  hath  not  yet  been  wrought 
which  can  give  us  back  the  past  again." 

"This,"  said  Will  Law,  sadly,  "is  this  all  the 
message  I  may  take?" 

"It  is  all." 

"Though  it  is  the  last?" 

"It  is  the  last." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  LITTLE  SUPPER  OF  THE  REGENT 

Paris,  city  of  delights,  Paris  drunk  with  gold, 
mad  with  the  delirium  of  excesses,  Paris  with  no 
aim  except  joy,  no  method  but  extravagance,  held 
within  her  gilded  gates  one  citadel  of  sensuality 
which  remained  ever  an  object  of  mystery,  a  source 
of  curiosity  even  in  that  dissipated  and  pleasure- 
sated  city.  In  the  Palais  Eoyal,  back  of  the  regally 
beautiful  gardens,  back  of  the  noble  rows  of  trees, 
beyond  the  gates  of  iron  and  the  guards  in  uniform, 
lived  France's  regent,  in  a  city  of  libertines  the 
prince  of  libertines.  In  a  city  where  there  were 
more  mistresses  than  wives,  he  it  was  who  led  the 
list  of  the  licentious.  In  a  city  of  unregulated 
vice  and  yet  of  exquisitely  ordered  taste,  he  it  was 
who  accorded  to  himself  daily  pleasures  which  were 
admittedly  beyond  approach.  How  unspeakably 
unbridled,  how  delightfully  wicked,  how  temptingly 
ingenious  in  their  features  the  little  suppers  of 
the  regent  might  be — these  were  matters  of  curious 
interest  to  all,  of  intimate  knowledge  to  but  few. 
(366) 


It  was  to  one  of  these  famous  yet  mysterious 
gatherings  that  the  regent  of  France  had  invited 
the  master  of  that  great  and  glittering  bubble  house, 
wherein  dwelt  so  insecurely  the  affairs  of  France. 
John  Law,  director-general  of  the  finances,  con 
troller  of  the  Company  of  the  Indies,  was  chosen  by 
Philippe  of  Orleans  for  a  position  not  granted  to 
the  crafty  Dubois  or  to  the  shrewd  D'Argenson,  the 
last  of  that  strange  trinity  who  made  his  council. 
John  Law,  gallant,  graceful,  owner  of  a  reputation 
as  wit  and  beau  scarce  behind  that  of  his  sudden 
fame  as  financier,  was  admitted  not  only  to  the 
business  affairs  of  the  gay  duke,  but  to  his  pleasures 
as  well.  To  him  and  his  brother  Will,  still  as 
sociated  in  large  measure  in  the  stupendous  opera 
tions  of  the  director-general,  there  came  the  invita 
tion  of  the  regent,  practically  the  command  of  the 
king,  to  join  the  regent  after  the  opera  for  a  little 
supper  at  the  Palais  Eoyal. 

Law  would  have  excused  himself  from  this  un 
sought  honor.  "Your  Grace  will  observe,"  said  he, 
"that  my  time  is  occupied  to  the  full.  The  people 
scarcely  suffer  me  to  rest  at  night.  Perhaps  your 
Grace  might  not  care  for  company  so  dull  as  mine." 

"Fie!  my  friend,  my  very  good  friend,"  replied 
Philippe.  "Have  you  become  devot?  Whence  this 
sudden  change?  Consider;  'tis  no  hardship  to  meet 


368          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

sucn  ladies  as  Madame  de  Sabran,  or  Madame  de 
Prie — designer  though  I  fear  De  Prie  is  for  the 
domestic  felicity  of  the  youthful  king — nor  indeed 
my  good  friend,  La  Parabere,  somewhat  pale  and 
pensive  though  she  groweth.  And  what  shall  I  say 
for  Madame  de  Tencin,  the  splrituelle,  who  is  to 
be  with  us;  or  Madame  de  Caylus,  niece  of  Main- 
tenon,  but  the  very  opposite  of  Maintenon  in  every 
possible  way?  Moreover,  we  are  promised  the  at 
tendance  of  Mademoiselle  Aisse.  She  hath  become 
devout  of  late,  and  thinks  it  a  sin  even  to  powder  her 
hair,  but  Aisse  devout  is  none  the  less  Aisse  the 
beautiful." 

"Surely  your  Grace  hath  never  lacked  in  excellent 
taste,  and  that  is  the  talk  of  Paris,"  replied  Law. 

"Oh,  well,  long  training  bringeth  perfection  in 
due  time,"  replied  Philippe  of  Orleans,  composedly, 
it  having  no  ill  effect  with  him  to  call  attention 
to  his  numerous  intrigues.  "It  should  hardly  be 
called  a  poor  privilege,  after  all,  to  witness  the  re 
sults  of  that  highly  cultivated  taste,  as  it  shall  be 
displayed  this  evening,  not  to  mention  the  privilege 
you  will  have  of  meeting  one  or  two  other  gentle 
men;  and  lastly,  of  course,  myself,  if  you  be  not 
tired  of  such  company." 

"Your  Grace,"  replied  Law,  "you  both  honor  and 
flatter  me." 


LITTLE    SUPPER    OF    THE    REGENT    369 

"Why,  sir,  you  speak  as  if  this  were  a  new  ex 
perience  for  you.  Now,  in  the  days — " 

"  'Tis  true ;  but  of  late  years  I  have  grown  grave 
in  the  cares  of  state,  as  your  Grace  may  know." 

"And  most  efficiently,"  replied  the  regent.  "But 
stay!  I  have  kept  until  the  last  my  main  attrac 
tion.  You  shall  witness  there,  I  give  you  my  word, 
the  making  public  of  the  secret  of  the  fair  unknown 
who  is  reputed  to  have  been  especially  kind  to 
Philippe  of  Orleans  for  these  some  months  past. 
Join  us  at  the  little  enterprise,  my  friend,  and  you 
shall  see,  I  promise  you,  the  most  beautiful  woman 
in  Paris,  crowned  with  the  greatest  gem  of  all 
the  world.  The  regent's  diamond,  that  great  gem 
which  you  have  made  possible  for  France,  shall,  for 
the  first  time,  and  for  one  evening  at  least,  adorn 
the  forehead  of  the  regent's  queen  of  beauty!" 

As  the  gay  words  of  the  regent  fell  upon  his 
ears,  there  came  into  Law's  heart  a  curious  ten 
sion,  a  presentiment,  a  feeling  as  though  some  great 
and  curious  thing  were  about  to  happen.  Yet  ever 
the  challenge  of  danger  was  one  to  draw  him  for 
ward,  not  to  hold  him  back.  If  for  a  moment  he 
had  hesitated,  his  mind  was  now  suddenly  resolved. 

"Your  Grace,"  said  he,  "your  wish  is  for  me  com 
mand,  and  certainly  in  this  instance  is  peculiarly 
agreeable." 


370          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

"As  I  thought/'  replied  the  regent.  "Had  you 
hesitated,  I  should  have  called  your  attention  to  the 
fact  that  the  table  of  the  Palais  Royal  is  considered 
to  possess  somewhat  of  character.  The  Vicomte 
de  Bechamel  is  at  the  very  zenith  of  his  genius,  and 
he  daily  produces  dishes  such  as  all  Paris  has  not 
ever  dreamed.  Moreover,  we  have  heen  fortunate 
in  some  recent  additions  of  most  excellent  vin  d'Ai. 
I  make  no  doubt,  upon  the  whole,  we  shall  find  some 
what  with  which  to  occupy  ourselves." 

Thus  it  came  about  that,  upon  that  evening,  there 
gathered  at  the  entrance  of  the  Palais  Royal,  after 
an  evening  with  Lecouvreur  at  the  Theatre  Frangais, 
some  scattered  groups  of  persons  evidently  possess 
ing  consequence.  The  chairs  of  others,  from  more 
distant  locations,  treading  their  way  through  the 
narrow,  dark  and  unlighted  streets  of  the  old, 
crude  capital  of  France,  brought  their  passengers 
in  time  to  a  scene  far  different  from  that  of  the 
gloomy  streets. 

The  little  supper  of  the  regent,  arranged  in  the 
private  salle,  whose  decorations  had  been  devised 
for  the  special  purpose,  was  more  entrancing  than 
even  the  glitter  of  the  mimic  world  of  the  Theatre 
Frangais.  There  extended  down  the  center  of  the 
room,  though  filling  but  a  small  portion  of  its 
vast  extent,  the  grand  table  provided  for  the  ban- 


LITTLE    SUPPER    OF    THE    REGENT    371 

quet,  a  reach  of  snowy  linen,  broken  at  the  upper 
end  by  the  arm  of  an  abbreviated  cross.  At  each 
end  of  this  cross-arm  stood  magnificent  candelabra, 
repeated  at  intervals  along  the  greater  extension  of 
the  board.  Noble  epergnes,  filled  with  the  choicest 
plants,  found  their  reflections  in  plates  of  glass  cun 
ningly  inlaid  here  and  there  upon  the  surface  of  the 
table.  Vast  mirrors,  framed  in  wreaths  of  roses 
and  surmounted  by  little  laughing  cupids,  gleamed 
in  the  walls  of  the  room,  and  in  the  faces  of  these 
mirrors  were  reflected  the  beams  of  the  many-col 
ored  tapers,  carried  in  brackets  of  engraved  gold 
and  silver  and  many-colored  glasses.  The  ceiling 
of  the  room  was  a  soft  mass  of  silken  draperies, 
depending  edgewise  from  above,  thousands  of  yards 
of  the  most  expensive  fabrics  of  the  world.  From 
these,  as  they  were  gently  swayed  by  the  breath 
of  invisible  fans,  there  floated  delicious,  languorous 
perfumes,  intoxicating  to  the  senses.  On  any  hand 
within  the  great  room,  removed  at  some  distance 
from  the  table,  were  rich,  luxurious  couches  and 
divans. 

As  one  trod  within  the  door  of  this  temple  of 
the  senses,  surely  it  must  have  seemed  to  him  that 
he  had  come  into  another  world,  which  at  first  glance 
might  have  appeared  to  be  one  of  an  unrighteous  ease, 
an  unprincipled  enjoyment  and  an  unmanly  aban- 


372 

donment  to  embowered  vice.  Yet  here  it  was  that 
Philippe  of  Orleans,  ruler  of  France,  spent  those 
hours  most  dear  to  him.  If  he  gave  thought  to 
affairs  of  state  during  the  day  it  was  but  that  these 
affairs  of  state  might  give  to  him  the  means  to 
indulge  fancies  of  his  own.  Alike  shrewd  and  easy, 
alike  haughty  and  sensuous,  here  it  was  that  Philippe 
held  his  real  court. 

These  young  gentlemen  of  France,  these  roues 
who  have  come  to  meet  Philippe  at  his  little  supper 
— how  different  from  the  same  beings  under  the  rule 
of  the  Grand  Monarque.  Their  coats  are  no  longer 
dark  in  hue.  Their  silks  and  velvets  have  blossomed 
out,  even  as  Paris  has  blossomed  since  the  death 
of  Louis  the  Grand.  Jabots  of  lace  are  shown  in 
full  abundance,  and  so  far  from  the  abolishment  of 
jewels  from  their  garb,  rubies,  sapphires,  diamonds 
sparkle  everywhere,  from  the  clasp  of  the  high  ruf 
fles  of  the  neck  to  the  buckles  of  the  red-heeled 
shoes.  Powder  sparkles  on  the  head  coverings  of 
these  new  gallants  of  France.  They  step  daintily, 
yet  not  ungracefully,  into  this  brilliantly-lighted 
room,  these  creatures,  gracious  and  resplendent, 
sparkling,  painted,  ephemeral,  not  unsuited'to  the 
place  and  hour. 

For  the  ladies,  witness  the  attire,  for  instance,  of 
that  Madame  de  Tencin,  the  wonder  of  the  wits  of 


LITTLE    SUPPER    OF    THE    REGENT    373 

Paris.  A  full  blue  costume,  with  pannier  more  than 
five  yards  in  circumference,  under  a  skirt  of  silver 
gauze,  trimmed  with  golden  gauze  and  pink  crape, 
and  a  train  lying  six  yards  upon  the  floor,  show 
ing  silver  embroideries  with  white  roses.  The  sleeves 
are  half-draped,  as  is  the  skirt,  and  each  caught  up 
with  diamonds,  showing  folds  lying  above  and  below 
the  silk  underneath.  Madame  wears  a  necklace  of 
rubies  and  of  diamonds,  and  above  the  pannier  a  belt 
of  diamonds  and  rubies.  Her  hair  is  dressed,  follow 
ing  the  mental  habit  of  madame,  in  the  Greek  style, 
and  abundantly  trimmed  with  roses  and  gems  and 
bits  of  silver  gauze.  There  is  a  little  crown  upon 
the  top  of  madame's  coiffure.  Her  bodice,  cut  suf 
ficiently  low,  is  seen  to  be  of  light  silken  weave. 
From  her  hair  depends  a  veil  of  light  gauze  covered 
with  gold  spangles,  and  it  is  secured  upon  the  left 
side  by  a  hand's  grasp  of  pink  and  white  feathers, 
surmounted  by  a  magnificent  heron  plume  of  long 
and  silken  whiteness.  The  gloves  of  madame  are 
white  silk,  and  so  also,  as  she  is  not  reluctant  to  ad 
vise,  are  her  stockings,  picked  out  with  pink  and 
silver  clocks.  Her  shoes,  made  by  the  celebrated 
cordonnier,  Raveneau,  show  heels  three  inches  in 
height.  As  madame  enters  she  casts  aside  the 
camlet  coat  which  has  covered  her  costume.  She 
sweeps  back  the  veil,  endangering  its  confining  clasp 


374          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

of  plumes.  Madame  makes  a  deliberate  and  open 
inspection  of  her  face  in  her  little  looking-glass  to 
discover  whether  her  mouches  are  well  placed.  She 
carefully  arranges  the  patch  upon  the  middle  of  her 
cheek.  She  would  be  "gallant"  to-night,  would  lay 
aside  things  spirituelle.  She  twirls  carelessly  her 
fan,  a  creation  of  ivory  and  mother  of  pearl,  elabo 
rately  carved,  tipped  with  gold  and  silver  and  set 
with  precious  stones. 

Close  at  the  elbow  of  Madame  de  Tencin  steps  a 
figure  of  different  type,  a  woman  not  accustomed 
to  please  by  brilliance  of  mind  or  vivacity  of  speech, 
but  by  sheer  femininity  of  face  and  form.  Tall, 
slender,  yet  with  figure  divinely  proportioned,  this 
beautiful  girl,  Haidee,  or  Mademoiselle  Ai'sse,  re 
puted  to  be  of  Turkish  or  Circassian  birth,  and  pos 
sessed  of  a  history  as  strange  as  her  own  personality 
is  attractive,  would  seem  certainly  as  pure  as  angel 
of  the  skies.  Not  so  would  say  the  gossips  of  Paris, 
who  whisper  that  mademoiselle  is  not  happy  from 
her  chevalier — who  speak  of  a  certain  visit  to  En 
gland,  and  a  little  child  born  across  seas  and  not 
acknowledged  by  its  parent.  Aisse",  the  devout,  the 
beautiful,  is  no  better  than  others  of  her  sex  in 
this  gay  city.  True,  she  has  abandoned  all  arti 
ficial  aids  to  the  complexion  and  appears  distinct 
among  her  flattering  rivals,  the  clear  olive  of  her 


LITTLE    SUPPER    OF    THE    REGENT    375 

skin  showing  in  strange  contrast  to  the  heightened 
colors  of  her  sisters.  Yet  A'isse,  the  toast  of  Europe 
and  the  text  of  poets,  proves  herself  not  behind  the 
others  in  the  loose  gaiety  of  this  occasion.  '| 

And  there  came  others;  Madame  de  Prie,  later 
to  hold  such  intimate  relations  with  the  fortunes 
of  France  in  the  selection  of  a  future  queen  for  the 
boy  king;  De  Sabran,  plain,  gracious  and  good- 
natured;  Parabere,  of  delicately  oval  face,  of  tiny 
mouth,  of  thin  high  nose  and  large  expressive  eyes, 
her  soft  hair  twined  with  a  deep  flushed  rose,  and 
over  her  corsage  drooping  a  continuous  garland  of 
magnificent  flowers.  Also  Caylus  the  wit,  Caylus 
the  friend  of  Peter  the  Great,  by  duty  and  by  devo 
tion  a  religieuse,  but  by  thought  and  training  a  gay 
woman  of  the  world — all  these  butterflies  of  the 
bubble  house  of  Paris  came  swimming  in  as  by  right 
upon  this  exotic  air. 

And  all  of  these,  as  they  advanced  into  the  room, 
paused  as  they  met,  coming  from  the  head  of  the 
apartment,  the  imposing  figure  of  their  host.  Phi 
lippe  of  Orleans,  his  powdered  wig  drawn  closely 
into  a  half-bag  at  the  nape  of  the  neck,  his  full 
eye  shining  with  merriment  and  good  nature,  his 
soft,  yet  not  unmanly  figure  appearing  to  good 
advantage  in  his  well-chosen  garments,  advances 
ydtla.  a  certain  dignity  to  meet  his  guests.  He  is 


376 


garbed  in  a  coat  made  of  watered  silk,  its  straight 
collar  faced  with  dark-green  material  edged  with 
gold.  A  green  and  gold  shoulder  knot  sets  off  the 
garment,  which  is  provided  with  large  opal  buttons 
set  in  brilliants,  this  same  adornment  appearing  on 
the  hilt  of  his  sword,  which  he  lays  aside  as  he 
approaches.  From  the  sides  of  his  wig  depend  two 
carefully-arranged  locks,  dusted  with  a  tan-colored 
powder.  His  small  clothes,  of  lighter  hue  than  the 
coat,  display  fitly  the  proportions  of  his  lower  limbs. 
The  high-heeled  shoes  blaze  with  the  glare  of  re 
flected  lights  as  the  diamonds  change  their  angles 
during  the  calm  advance  down  the  room. 

"Welcome,  my  very  dear  ladies,"  exclaimed  Phil 
ippe,  advancing  to  the  head  of  the  board  and  at 
once  setting  all  at  ease,  if  any  there  needed  such 
encouragement,  by  the  grace  and  good  feeling  of 
his  air.  "You  do  me  much  honor,  ladies.  If  I 
be  not  careful,  the  fair  Adrienne  will  become  jealous, 
since  I  fear  you  have  deserted  the  pomp  of  the  play 
full  early  for  the  table  of  Philippe.  Ladies,  as  you 
know,  I  am  your  devoted  slave.  Myself  and  the 
Vicomte  de  Bechamel  have  labored,  seriously  labored, 
for  your  welfare  this  day.  I  promise  you  something 
of  the  results  of  those  painstaking  efforts,  which  we 
both  hope  will  not  disappoint  you.  Meantime,  that 
the  moments  may  not  lag,  let  me  recommend,  if  I  am 


allowed,  this  new  vintage  of  Ai,  which  Bechamel 
advises  me  we  have  never  yet  surpassed  in  all  our 
efforts.  Madame  de  Tencin,  let  me  beg  of  you  to 
be  seated  close  to  my  arm.  Not  upon  this  side, 
Mademoiselle  Haidee,  if  you  please,  for  I  have  been 
wheedled  into  promising  that  station  this  night  to 
another.  Who  is  it  to  be,  my  dear  Caylus?  Ah, 
that  is  my  secret!  Presently  we  shall  see.  Have 
I  not  promised  you  an  occasion  this  evening?  And 
did  Philippe  ever  fail  in  his  endeavors  to  please? 
At  least,  did  he  ever  cease  to  strive  to  please  his 
angels?  Now,  my  children,  accept  the  blessing  of 
your  father  Philippe,  your  friend,  who,  though  years 
may  multiply  upon  him,  retains  in  his  heart,  none 
the  less,  for  each  and  all  of  you,  those  sentiments 
of  passion  and  of  admiration  which  constitute  for 
him  his  dearest  memories!  Ladies,  I  pray  you  be 
seated.  I  pray  you  tarry  not  too  long  before  prov 
ing  the  judgment  of  Bechamel  in  regard  to  this 
new  vintage  of  Ai." 

"Ah,  your  Grace,"  exclaimed  De  Tencin,  "were  it 
not  Philippe  of  Orleans,  we  women  might  not  be  apt 
to  sit  in  peace  together.  Yet,  as  we  have  earlier 
proved  your  hospitality,  we  may  perhaps  not  scruple 
to  continue." 

Philippe  smiled  blandly.  The  remark  was  not 
ill-fitted  to  the  actual  case.  Though  the  regent 


378          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

counted  his  sweethearts  by  scores,  he  dismissed  the 
one  with  the  same  air  of  interest  as  he  welcomed 
the  other,  and  indeed  ended  hy  retaining  all  as 
his  friends. 

"Madame  de  Tencin,  in  admiration  there  can  be 
no  degrees,"  said  he.  "In  love  there  can  be  no 
rank." 

"Why,  then,  'do  you  place  as  your  chief  guest  this 
other,  this  unknown?"  pouted  Mademoiselle  Ai'sse, 
as  she  seated  herself,  turning  upon  her  host  the 
radiance  of  her  large,  dark  eyes.  "Is  this  stranger, 
then,  so  passing  fair?" 

"Not  so  fair  as  you,  my  lovely  Haidee,  that  I  may 
swear,  and  safely,  since  she  is  not  yet  present.  Yet 
I  announce  to  you  that  she  is  ires  interessante,  my 
unknown  queen  of  beauty,  my  belle  sauvage  from 
America.  But  see !  Here  she  comes.  'Tis  time  for 
her  to  appear,  and  not  keep  our  guests  in  waiting." 

There  sounded  at  the  back  of  the  great  hall  the 
tinkle  of  a  little  bell  of  some  soft  metal.  It  ap 
proached,  and  with  it  the  sweeping  stir  of  heavy 
silken  garb.  The  door  opened,  admitting  a  still 
greater  blaze  of  light,  and  there  swept  into  the  hall, 
as  though  swimming  upon  the  flood  of  this  added 
brilliance,  a  figure  striking  enough  to  arouse  at 
tention  even  at  that  time  and  place,  even  among  the 
beauties  of  the  court  of  France.  There  advanced, 


calm  and  stately,  with  the  gliding  ease  of  a  perfect 
carriage,  the  figure  of  a  woman,  slender,  with  full 
bright  eyes  and  somber  hair — so  much  might  he 
seen  at  a  glance.  Yet  the  newcomer  left  somewhat 
of  query  in  the  mind  of  womankind  accustomed  to 
view  in  detail  any  costume. 

The  stranger  was  enveloped  in  a  wide  and  un- 
defining  garment,  a  sweeping  robe  fit  for  any  duchess 
of  the  realm,  whose  flowing  folds  showed  a  magnifi 
cent  tissue  of  silver  embroidery  covered  with  golden 
flowers,  below  the  plum-color  and  green.  The  high 
corsage  of  the  white  robe  covered  the  bosom 
fully,  and  was  caught  at  the  throat  with  a  bunch 
of  blazing  jewels.  Under  these  soft  draperies,  tink 
ling  in  time  with  the  movements  of  an  otherwise 
noiseless  tread,  there  sounded  ever  the  faint  note  of 
the  little  bell.  At  the  toe  of  shoes  otherwise  silent, 
there  peeped  in  and  out  the  flash  of  diamonds,  and 
in  the  dark  masses  of  her  hair,  shifting  as  she  trod 
beneath  each  new  sconce  in  turn,  and  catching  more 
and  more  brilliance  as  she  advanced,  there  smol 
dered  the  flame  of  a  mass  of  scintillating  gems. 
A  queen's  raiment  was  that  of  this  unknown  beauty, 
and  she  herself  might  have  been  a  queen  as  she  swept 
down  the  great  hall,  scornfully  careless  of  the 
eyes  of  those  other  beauties. 

She  stepped  to  the  place  at  the  regent's  right 


380          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

hand,  with  head  high  and  eyes  undrooping.  For  a 
dramatic  instant  she  paused,  as  though  in  the  re 
hearsal  of  a  part — a  part  of  which  it  might  be 
said  that  the  regent  was  not  alone  the  author.  This 
triumph  of  woman  over  other  women,  this  triumph 
of  vice  over  other  vice,  of  effrontery  over  effrontery 
akin — this  could  not  have  been  so  planned  and  exe 
cuted  by  any  but  a  woman.  One  another  these  beau 
ties  might  tolerate,  knowing  one  another's  frailties  as 
they  did;  yet  the  elegance,  the  disdain,  the  indiffer 
ence  of  this  newcomer — this  they  could  not  support ! 
Hatred  sat  in  the  bosom  of  each  woman  there  as  she 
swept  her  courtesy  to  the  new  guest  of  the  regent, 
who  took  her  place  as  of  right  at  the  head  of  the 
board  and  near  the  regent's  arm. 

"Our  gentlemen  are  somewhat  late  this  evening," 
exclaimed  Philippe.  "'Tis  too  bad  the  Abbe  Du- 
bois  could  not  be  with  us  to-night  to  administer 
clerical  consolation." 

"Ah!  le  drole  Dubois!"  exclaimed  Madame  de 
Tencin. 

"And  that  vagabond,  the  Due  de  Eichelieu — 
but  we  may  not  wait.  Again  ladies,  the  glasses,  or 
Bechamel  will  be  aggrieved.  And  finally,  though  I 
perceive  most  of  you  have  graciously  unmasked,  let 
me  say  that  the  moment  has  now  arrived  when  we 
make  plain  all  secrets." 


LITTLE    SUPPER    OF    THE    REGENT    381 

He  turned  his  gaze  upon  the  woman  at  his  right. 
As  though  at  a  signal,  she  half  rose,  unclasped  the 
circlet  of  gems  at  her  throat,  and  swept  back  across 
the  arm  of  her  chair  the  soft  garment  which  en 
veloped  her. 

A  sigh,  a  long  breath  of  amazement  broke  from 
those  other  dames  of  Paris.  Not  one  of  them  but 
was  sated  with  the  blaze  of  diamonds,  the  rich,  red 
light  of  rubies  and  the  fathomless  radiance  of 
sapphires.  Silks  and  satins  and  cloth  of  gold  and 
silver  had  few  novelties  for  them.  The  costumers 
of  Paris,  center  of  the  world  of  art,  even  in  those 
times  of  unrivaled  extravagance  and  unbridled  self- 
gratification,  held  no  new  surprise  for  these  beauties, 
possessed  so  long  of  all  that  their  imagination  re 
quired  or  that  princely  liberality  could  supply.  Yet 
here  indeed  was  a  surprise. 

As  she  stood  at  the  regent's  right,  calmly  and  com 
posedly  looking  down  the  long  board  as  she  ar 
ranged  her  drapery  before  reseating  herself,  this  new 
favorite  of  the  regent  appeared  in  the  full  costume 
of  the  American  native !  A  long  soft  tunic  of  ex 
quisitely  dressed  white  leather  fell  below  her  hips, 
intricately  embroidered  in  the  native  bead  work 
of  America,  and  stained  with  great  blotches  of  colors 
done  in  the  quills  of  the  porcupine — heavy  reds, 
sprightly  yellows,  and  deep  blues.  Down  the  seams 


382          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

of  this  loose-fitting  tunic  depended  little  waving 
fringes.  The  belt  which  caught  it  at  the  waist  was 
wrought  likewise  in  beads.  Beneath  the  level  of  the 
table,  as  she  stood,  the  inquiring  eyes  might  not 
so  clearly  see;  yet  the  white  leggings,  fringed  and 
beaded,  and  covered  by  a  sweeping  blanket  of  snowy 
buckskin,  might  have  been  seen  to  finish  at  the  ankle 
and  blend  in  texture  and  ornamentation  with  tiny 
shoes,  which  covered  the  smallest  foot  yet  seen  in 
Paris — shoes  at  the  side  of  which  there  dangled 
the  little  bells  of  metal  whose  tones  had  told  her 
coming. 

Here  and  there  upon  the  bead  work  of  the  native 
artist,  who  had  made  this  attire  at  the  expense  of 
so  much  patient  effort,  there  blazed  the  changing 
rays  of  real  gems,  diamonds,  rubies,  emeralds — 
every  stone  known  as  precious.  'As  the  full  bosom 
of  the  scornful  beauty  rose  and  fell  there  were  cast 
about  in  sprays  of  light  the  reflections  of  these  gems. 
Bracelets  of  dull,  beaten  metal  hung  about  her 
wrists.  In  her  hair  were  ornaments  of  some  dull 
blue  stone.  Barbaric,  beautiful,  fascinating,  savage 
she  surely  seemed  as  she  met  unruffled  the  startled 
gaze  of  these  beautiful  women  of  the  court,  who 
never,  at  even  the  most  fanciful  bal  masque  in  all 
Paris,  had  seen  costume  like  to  this. 


LITTLE    SUPPEK    OF   THE    REGENT    383 

"Ladies,  la  voila!"  spoke  the  regent.  "Ma  belle 
sauvage  I" 

The  newcomer  swept  a  careless  courtesy  as  she 
took  her  seat.  As  yet  she  had  spoken  no  word. 
The  door  at  the  lower  end  of  the  hall  opened. 

"His  Grace  le  Due  de  Richelieu,"  announced 
the  attendant,  who  stood  beneath  the  board. 

There  advanced  into  the  room,  with  slouchy,  ill- 
bred  carriage,  a  young  man  whose  sole  reputation 
was  that  of  being  the  greatest  rake  in  Paris,  the 
Due  de  Richelieu,  half-gamin,  half-nobleman,  who 
counted  more  victims  among  titled  ladies  than  he 
had  fingers  on  his  hands,  whose  sole  concern  of  liv 
ing  was  to  plan  some  new  impassioned  avowal,  some 
new  and  pitiless  abandonment.  This  creature,  meet 
ing  the  salute  of  the  regent,  and  catching  at  the 
same  moment  a  view  of  the  regent's  guest,  found 
eyes  for  nothing  else,  and  stood  boldly  gazing  at  the 
face  of  her  whom  Paris  knew  for  the  first  time 
and  under  no  more  definite  title  than  that  of  "Belle 
Sauvage" 

"Pray  you,  be  seated,  Monsieur  le  Due/'  said  the 
regent,  calmly,  and  the  latter  was  wise  enough  to 
comply. 

"Your  Grace,"  said  Madame  de  Sabran,  "was 
it  not  understood  that  we  were  to  meet  to-night 
none  less  than  the  wizard,  Monsieur  L'as?" 


384          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

"Monsieur  L'as  will  be  with  MS,  and  his  brother," 
replied  Philippe.  "But  now  I  ask  you  to  bear  wit 
ness  to  the  shrewdness  of  your  friend  Philippe  in 
entertainment.  I  bethought  me  that,  as  we  were 
to  have  with  us  the  master  of  the  Messasebe,  it  were 
well  to  have  with  us  also  the  typified  genius  of  that 
same  Messasebe.  'Twas  but  a  little  conceit  of  my 
own.  And  why — mon  enfant,  what  is  it  to  you? 
What  do  you  know  of  our  controller  of  finance  ?" 

The  face  of  the  woman  at  his  right  had  suddenly 
gone  white  with  a  pallor  visible  even  beneath  its 
rouge  and  patches.  She  half  turned,  as  though  to 
push  back  her  chair  from  the  board,  would  have 
arisen,  would  have  spoken  perhaps;  yet  act  and 
gesture  were  at  the  time  unnoticed. 

"His  Excellency,  Monsieur  Jean  L'as,  le  contro- 
leur-general"  came  the  soft  tones  of  the  attendant 
near  the  door.  "Monsieur  Guillaume  L'as,  brother 
of  the  controleur-general" 

The  eyes  of  all  were  turned  toward  the  door. 
Every  petted  belle  of  Paris  there  assembled  shifted 
bodily  in  her  seat,  turning  her  gaze  upon  that  man 
whose  reputation  was  the  talk  of  all  the  realm  of 
France. 

There  appeared  now  the  tall,  erect  and  vigorous 
form  of  a  man  owning  a  superb  physical  beauty. 
Powerful,  yet  not  too  heavy  for  ease,  his  figure 


LITTLE    SUPPEK    OF    THE    EEGENT    385 

retained  that  elasticity  and  grace  which,  had 
won  him  favor  in  more  than  one  court  of  Europe. 
He  himself  might  have  been  king  as  he  advanced 
steadily  up  the  brilliantly-illuminated  room.  His 
costume,  simply  made,  yet  of  the  richest  materials 
of  the  time;  his  wig,  highly  powdered  though  of 
modest  proportions;  his  every  item  of  apparel  ap 
peared  alike  of  great  simplicity  and  barren  of  pre 
tentiousness.  As  much  might  be  said  for  the  garb 
of  his  brother,  who  stepped  close  behind  him,  a  fig 
ure  less  self-contained  than  that  of  the  man  who 
now  occupied  the  absorbed  attention  of  the  public 
mind,  even  as  he  now  filled  the  eager  eyes  of  those 
who  turned  to  greet  his  entrance. 

"Ah,  Monsieur  L'as,  Monsieur  L'as!"  exclaimed 
Philippe  of  Orleans,  stepping  forward  to  welcome 
him  and  taking  the  hand  of  Law  in  both  his  own. 
"You  are  welcome,  you  are  very  welcome  indeed. 
The  soup  will  be  with  us  presently,  and  the  wine  of 
Ai  is  with  us  now.  You  and  your  brother  are  with 
us;  so  all  at  last  is  well.  These  ladies  are,  as  I  be 
lieve,  all  within  your  acquaintance.  You  have  been 
present  at  the  salon  of  Madame  de  Tencin.  You 
know  her  Grace  the  Duchesse  de  Falari,  recently 
Madame  d'Artague?  Mademoiselle  de  Caylus  you 
know  very  well,  and  of  course  also  Mademoiselle 
A'isse,  la  belle  Circassienne — But  what?  Diable! 


386          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

Have  you  too  gone  mad?  Come,  is  the  sight  of  my 
guest  too  much  for  you  also,  Monsieur  L'as  ?" 

There  was  irritation  in  the  tone  with  which  the 
regent  uttered  this  protest,  yet  he  continued. 

"Monsieur  L'as,  'tis  hut  a  little  surprise  I  had 
planned  for  you.  Mademoiselle,  my  princess  of  the 
Messasebe,  let  me  present  Monsieur  Jean  L'as,  king 
of  the  Messasebe,  and  hence  your  sovereign !  This 
is  my  fair  unknown,  whose  face  I  have  promised 
you  should  see  to-night — this,  Monsieur  L'as,  is  my 
princess,  the  one  whom  I  have  seen  fit  to  honor 
this  evening  by  the  wearing  of  the  chief  gem  of 
France." 

The  regent  fumbled  for  an  instant  at  his  fob. 
He  stepped  to  the  side  of  the  faltering  figure  which 
stood  arrayed  in  all  its  savage  finery.  One  move 
ment,  and  upon  the  dark  locks  which  fell  about 
her  brow  there  blazed  the  unspeakable  fires  of  a  stone 
whose  magnificence  brought  forth  exclamations  of 
awe  from  every  person  present. 

"See  I"  cried  Philippe  of  Orleans.  "  'Twas  on  the 
advice  and  by  the  aid  of  Monsieur  L'as  that  I  secured 
the  gem,  whose  like  is  not  known  in  all  the  world. 
'Tis  chief  of  the  crown  jewels  of  the  realm  of 
France,  this  stone,  now  to  be  known  as  the  regent's 
diamond.  And  now,  as  regent  of  France  and  mas- 


LITTLE    SUPPER   OF   THE    REGENT    387 

ter  for  a  day  of  her  jewels,  I  place  this  gem  upon 
the  brow  of  her  who  for  this  night  is  to  be  your 
queen  of  beauty!" 

The  wine  of  Ai  had  already  done  part  of  its  work. 
There  were  brightened  eyes,  easy  gestures  and  ready 
compliance  as  the  guests  arose  to  quaff  the  toast 
to  this  new  queen. 

As  for  the  queen  herself,  she  stood  faltering,  her 
eyes  averted,  her  limbs  trembling.  John  Law,  tall, 
calm,  self-possessed,  did  not  take  his  seat,  but  stood 
with  set,  fixed  face,  gazing  at  the  woman  who  held 
the  place  of  honor  at  the  table  of  the  regent. 

"Come !  Come  I"  cried  the  latter,  testily,  his  wine 
working  in  his  brain.  "Why  stand  you  there,  Mon 
sieur  L'as,  gazing  as  though  spellbound?  Salute, 
sir,  as  I  do,  the  chief  gem  of  France,  and  her  who 
is  most  fit  to  wear  it !" 

John  Law  stood,  as  though  he  had  not  heard 
him  speak.  There  swept  through  the  softly  bril 
liant  air,  over  the  flash  and  glitter  of  the  great  ban 
quet  board,  across  the  little  group  which  stood  about 
it,  a  sudden  sense  of  a  strange,  tense,  unfamiliar 
situation.  There  came  to  all  a  presentiment  of  some 
unusual  thing  about  to  happen.  Instinctively  the 
hands  paused,  even  as  they  raised  the  bright  and 
brimming  glasses.  The  eyes  of  all  turned  from  one 


388          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

to  the  other,  from  the  stern-faced  man  to  the  woman 
decked  in  barbaric  finery,  who  now  stood  trembling, 
drooping,  at  the- head  of  the  table. 

Law  for  a  moment  removed  his  gaze  from  the 
face  of  the  regent's  guest.  He  flicked  lightly  at 
the  deep  cuff  of  lace  which  hung  about  his  hands. 
"Your  Grace  is  not  far  wrong,"  said  he.  "I  regret 
that  you  do  not  have  your  way  in  planning  for  me 
a  surprise.  Yet  I  must  say  to  you,  that  I  have 
already  met  this  lady." 

"What?"  cried  the  regent.  "You  have  met  her? 
Impossible  !  Incredible !  How,  Monsieur  L'as  ? 
We  will  admit  you  wizard  enough,  and  owner  of  the 
philosopher's  stone — owner  of  anything  you  like,  ex 
cept  this  secret  of  mine  own.  According  to  madem 
oiselle's  own  words,  it  would  have  been  impossible." 

"None  the  less,  what  I  have  said  is  true,"  said 
John  Law,  calmly,  his  voice  even  and  well-modu 
lated,  vibrating  a  little,  yet  showing  no  trace  of 
anger  nor  of  emotional  uncontrol. 

"But  I  tell  you  it  could  not  be !"  again  exclaimed 
the  regent. 

"N"o,  it  is  impossible,"  broke  in  the  young  Due  de 
Richelieu.  "I  would  swear  that  had  such  beauty 
ever  set  foot  in  Paris  before  now,  the  news  would 
so  have  spread  that  all  France  had  been  at  her  feet." 


LITTLE    SUPPER    OF    THE    REGENT    389 

Law  looked  at  the  impudent  youth  with  a  gaze 
that  seemed  to  pass  through  him,  seeing  him  not. 
Then  suddenly  this  scene  and  its  significance,  its 
ultimate  meaning  seemed  to  take  instant  hold  upon 
him.  He  could  feel  rising  within  his  soul  a  flood 
of  irresistible  emotions.  All  at  once  his  anger,  her 
itage  of  an  impetuous  youth,  blazed  up  hot  and 
furious.  He  trod  a  step  farther  forward,  after  his 
fashion  advancing  close  to  that  which  threatened 
him. 

"This  lady,  your  Grace,"  said  he,  "has  been  known 
to  me  for  years.  Mary  Connynge,  what  do  you 
masquerading  here  ?" 

A  sudden  silence  fell,  a  silence  broken  at  length 
by  the  voice  of  the  regent  himself. 

"Surely,  Monsieur  L'as,"  said  Philippe,  "surely 
we  must  accept  your  statements.  But  Monsieur 
must  remember  that  this  is  the  table  of  the  regent, 
that  these  are  the  friends  of  the  regent.  We  bring 
no  recollections  here  which  shall  cut  short  the  joy 
of  any  person.  Sir,  I  would  not  reprimand  you, 
but  I  must  beg  that  you  be  seated  and  be  calm !" 

Yet  this  imperious  nature  of  the  other  brooked 
not  even  so  pointed  a  rebuke.  As  though  he  had  not 
heard,  Law  stepped  yet  a  pace  nearer  to  the  woman, 
upon  whom  he  now  bent  the  blaze  of  his  angered 
eyes.  He  looked  neither  to  right  nor  left,  but  visu- 


390          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

ally  commanded  the  woman  until  in  turn  her  eyes 
sought  his  own. 

"This  woman,  your  Grace,"  said  Law,  at  length, 
"was  for  some  time  in  effect  my  wife.  This  I  do 
not  offer  as  matter  of  interest.  What  I  would  say 
to  your  Grace  is  this — she  was  also  my  slave  I" 

"Sirrah !"  cried  the  regent. 

"Ah,  Dame!"  exclaimed  the  Due  de  Kichelieu. 
And  even  from  the  women  about  there  came  little 
murmurs  of  expostulation.  Indeed  there  might  have 
heen  pity,  even  in  this  assemblage,  for  the  agony 
now  visible  upon  the  brow  of  Mary  Connynge. 

"Monsieur,  the  wine  has  turned  your  head,"  said 
the  regent  scornfully.  "You  boast!" 

"I  boast  of  nothing,"  cried  Law,  savagely,  his 
voice  now  ringing  with  a  tone  none  present  had  ever 
known  it  to  assume.  "I  say  to  you  again,  this 
woman  was  my  slave,  and  that  she  will  again  do 
as  I  shall  choose.  Your  Grace,  she  would  come  and 
wipe  the  dust  from  my  shoes  if  I  should  command 
it!  She  would  kneel  at  my  feet,  and  beg  of  me, 
if  I  should  command  it!  Shall  I  prove  this,  your 
Grace?" 

"Oh,  assuredly!"  replied  the  regent,  with  a  sar 
casm  which  now  seemed  his  only  relief.  "Assuredly, 
if  Monsieur  L'as  should  please.  We  here  in  Paris 
are  quite  his  humble  servants." 


LITTLE    SUPPER   OF   THE    REGENT    391 

Law  said  nothing.  He  stood  with  his  biting  blue 
eyes  still  fixed  upon  Mary  Connynge,  whose  own  eyes 
faltered,  trying  their  utmost  to  escape  from  his; 
whose  fingers,  resting  just  lightly  on  the  snowy  Hol 
lands  of  the  table  cloth,  moved  tremulously;  whose 
limbs  appeared  ready  to  sink  beneath  her. 

"Come,  then,  Mary  Connynge !"  cried  Law  at  last, 
his  teeth  setting  savagely  together.  "Come,  then, 
traitress  and  slave,  and  kneel  before  me,  as  you  did 
once  before !" 

Then  there  ensued  a  strange  and  horrible  specta 
cle.  A  hush  as  of  death  fell  upon  the  group.  Mary 
Connynge,  trembling,  halting,  yet  always  advancing, 
did  indeed  as  her  master  had  bidden !  She  passed 
from  the  head  of  the  table,  back  of  the  chair  of 
the  regent,  who  stood  gazing  with  horror  in  his  eyes ; 
she  passed  the  chair  of  Aisse,  near  which  Law  now 
stood;  she  paused  in  front  of  him,  and  stood  as 
though  in  a  dream.  Her  knees  would  have  indeed 
sunk  beneath  her.  She  drew  from  her  bosom  a 
silken  kerchief,  as  though  she  would  indeed  have 
performed  the  ignoble  service  which  had  been  threat 
ened  for  her.  There  came  neither  voice  nor  motion 
to  those  who  saw  this  thing.  The  sheer  force  of  one 
strong  nature,  terrible  in  the  intensity  of  one  su 
preme  moment — this  might  have  been  the  spell  which 


392          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

commanded  at  the  table  of  the  regent.  Yet  this 
did  occur. 

There  came  a  sound  which  broke  the  silence,  which 
caused  all  to  start  as  with  swift  relief.  A  sob,  short, 
dry,  hard,  as  from  one  whose  heart  is  broken,  came 
from  beyond  the  place  where  Law  stood  facing  the 
trembling  woman.  The  eyes  of  all  turned  upon 
Will  Law,  from  whom  had  burst  this  irrepressible 
exclamation  of  agony.  Will  Law,  as  one  grown 
swiftly  old,  haggard,  broken-down,  stood  gazing  in 
wide-eyed  horror  at  this  woman,  so  humiliated  in 
the  presence  of  all  in  this  brilliantly-lighted  hall; 
before  the  blazing  mirrors  which  should  have  re 
flected  back  naught  but  beauty  and  joy;  under  the 
twining  roses,  which  should  have  been  the  signs 
manual  of  undying  love ;  under  the  smiling  cherubs, 
which  should  have  typified  the  deities  of  happy  love. 
Will  Law,  too,  had  loved.  Perhaps  still  he  loved. 

This  sharp  sound  served  to  break  also  the  spell 
under  which  Law  himself  seemed  held.  He  cast 
aloft  his  arms,  as  in  remorse  or  in  despair.  Then 
he  extended  a  hand  to  the  woman  who  would  have 
sunk  before  him. 

"God  forgive  me!  Madam,"  he  cried.  "I  had 
forgot.  Savage  indeed  you  are  and  have  been,  but 
'tis  not  for  me  to  treat  you  brutally." 

"Your  Grace,"  said  he,  turning  toward  the  regent, 


LITTLE    SUPPER    OE    THE    REGENT    393 

"I  crave  your  pardon.  Our  explanations  shall  reach 
you  on  the  morrow." 

He  turned,  and  taking  his  brother  by  the  arm, 
advanced  toward  the  door  at  which  he  had  recently 
entered,  pausing  not  to  look  behind  him.  Had  his 
eye  been  more  curious  as  he  and  his  half-fainting 
brother  bowed  before  passing  through  the  door,  it 
might  have  seen  that  which  he  must  long  have 
borne  in  memory. 

Mary  Connynge,  trembling,  pallid,  utterly  broken, 
never  found  her  way  back  to  the  right  hand  of  the 
regent.  She  half  stumbled  into  a  chair  near  the 
foot  of  the  table.  Her  bosom  fluttered  at  the  base 
of  the  throat.  Half  blindly  she  reached  out  her 
hand  toward  a  glass  of  wine  which  stood  near  by, 
foaming  and  sparkling,  its  gem-like  drops  of  keen 
pungency  swimming  continuously  up  to  the  surface. 
Her  hand  caught  at  the  slender  stem  of  the  glass. 
Leaning  upon  her  left  arm,  she  half  rose  as  though 
to  put  it  to  her  lips.  Her  head  moved,  as  though 
she  would  follow  the  retreating  figure  of  the  man 
who  had  thus  scornfully  used  her.  All  at  once, 
slowly,  and  then  with  a  sudden  crash,  she  sank 
down  upon  her  seat  and  fell  forward  across  the 
table.  The  fragile  glass  snapped  in  her  fingers. 
The  amber  wine  rushed  in  swift  flood  across  the 
linen.  In  the  broadening  stain  there  fell  and  lay 
blazing  the  great  gem  of  France. 


CHAPTEE  IX 

THE  NEWS 

"Lady  Kitty!  Lady  Kitty!  Have  you  heard  the 
news?" 

Thus,  breathless,  the  Countess  of  Warrington. 
Lady  Catharine's  English  neighbor  in  exile,  who 
burst  into  the  drawing-room  early  in  the  morning, 
not  waiting  for  announcement  of  her  presence. 

"Nay,  not  yet,  my  dear,"  said  Lady  Catharine, 
advancing  and  embracing  her.  "What  is  it,  pray? 
Has  the  poodle  swallowed  a  bone,  or  the  baby 
perhaps  cut  another  tooth?  And,  forsooth,  how  is 
the  little  one  ?" 

Lady  Emily  Warrington,  slender,  elegant,  well 
clad,  and  for  the  most  part  languorously  calm,  was 
in  a  state  of  excitement  quite  without  her  customary 
aplomb.  She  sank  into  a  seat,  fanning  herself  with 
a  vigor  which  threatened  ruin  to  the  precious  slats 
of  a  fan  which  bore  the  handiwork  of  Watteau. 

"The  streets  are  full  of  it,"  said  she.  "Have  you 
not  heard,  really  ?" 

"I  must  say,  not  yet.    But  what  is  it?" 

V    •*  •/ 

(394) 


THE    NEWS  395 

"Why,  the  quarrel  between  the  regent  and  his 
director-general,  Mr.  Law." 

i  "No,  I  have  not  heard  of  it."  Lady  Catharine 
sought  refuge  behind  her  own  fan.  "But  tell  me," 
she  continued. 

"But  that  is  not  all.  'Twas  the  reason  for  the 
quarrel.  Paris  is  all  agog.  'Twas  about  a  woman  I" 

"You  mean — there  was — a  woman?" 

"Yes,  it  all  happened  last  night,  at  the  Palais 
Koyal.  The  woman  is  dead — died  last  night.  'Tis 
said  she  fell  in  a  fit  at  the  very  table — 'twas  at  a  little 
supper  given  by  the  regent — and  that  when  they 
came  to  her  she  was  quite  dead." 

"But  Mr.  Law—" 

"  'Twas  he  that  killed  her !" 

"Good  God !  What  mean  you?"  cried  Lady  Cath 
arine,  her  own  face  blanching  behind  her  protecting 
fan.  The  blood  swept  back  upon  her  heart,  leaving 
her  cold  as  a  statue. 

"Why,"  continued  the  caller,  in  her  own  excitement 
to  tell  the  news  scarce  noting  what  went  on  before 
her,  "it  seems  that  this  mysterious  beauty  of  the 
regent's,  of  whom  there  has  been  so  much  talk, 
proved  to  be  none  other  than  a  former  mistress  of 
this  same  Mr.  Law,  who  is  reputed  to  have  been 
somewhat  given  to  that  sort  of  thing,  though  of 
late  monstrous  virtuous,  for  some  cause  or  other. 


396          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

Mr.  Law  came  suddenly  upon  her  at  the  table  of 
the  regent,  arrayed  in  some  kind  of  savage  finery 
— for  'twas  in  fashion  a  mask  that  evening,  as  you 
must  know.  And  what  doth  my  director-gen 
eral  do,  so  high  and  mighty?  Why,  in  spite  of  the 
regent  and  in  spite  of  all  those  present,  he  upbraids 
her,  taunts  her,  reviles  her,  demanding  that  she  fall 
on  her  knees  before  him,  as  it  seems  indeed  she 
would  have  done — as,  forsooth,  half  the  dames  of 
Paris  would  do  to-day !  Then,  all  of  a  sudden,  my 
Lord  Director  changes,  and  he  craves  pardon  of  the 
woman  and  of  the  regent,  and  so  stalks  off  and  leaves 
the  room !  And  now  then  the  poor  creature  walks 
to  the  table,  would  lift  a  glass  of  wine,  and  so — 'tis 
over!  'Twas  like  a  play!  Indeed  all  Paris  is  like 
a  play  nowadays.  Of  course  you  know  the  rest/' 

A  gesture  of  negative  came  from  the  hand  that 
lay  in  Lady  Catharine's  lap.  The  busy  gossip  went 
on. 

"The  regent,  be  sure,  was  angry  enough  at  this 
cheapening  of  his  own  wares  before  all,  and  perhaps 
'tis  true  he  had  a  fancy  for  the  woman.  At  any  rate, 
'tis  said  that  this  very  morning  he  quarreled  hotly 
with  Mr.  Law.  The  latter  gave  back  words  hot  as 
he  received,  and  so  they  had  it  violent  enough.  'Tis 
stated  on  the  Quinquempoix  that  another  must  take 
Mr.  Law's  place.  But  if  Mr.  Law  goes,  what  will 


THE    NEWS  397 

become  of  the  System?  And  what  would  the  Sys 
tem  be  without  Mr.  Law?  And  what  would  Paris 
be  without  the  System?  Why,  listen,  Lady  Cath 
arine  !  I  gained  fifty  thousand  livres  yesterday,  and 
my  coachman,  the  rascal,  in  some  manner  seems  to 
have  done  quite  as  well  for  himself.  I  doubt  not 
he  will  yet  build  a  mansion  of  his  own,  and  perhaps 
my  husband  may  drive  for  him!  These  be  strange 
days  indeed.  I  only  hope  they  may  continue,  in 
spite  of  what  my  husband  says/' 

"And  what  says  he?"  asked  Lady  Catharine,  her 
own  voice  sounding  to  her  unfamiliar  and  far  away. 

"Why,  that  the  city  is  mad,  and  that  this  soon 
must  end — this  Mississippi  bubble,  as  my  Lord  Stair 
calls  it  at  the  embassy." 

"Yet  I  have  heard  all  France  is  prosperous." 

"Oh,  yes  indeed.  'Tis  said  that  but  yesterday  the 
kingdom  paid  four  millions  of  its  debt  to  Bavaria, 
three  millions  of  its  debt  to  Sweden — yet  these  are 
not  the  most  pressing  debts  of  France." 

"Meaning — " 

"Why,  the  debts  of  the  regent  to  his  friends — 
those  are  the  important  things.  But  the  other  day 
he  gave  eighty  thousand  livres  to  Madame  Chateau- 
thiers,  as  a  little  present.  He  gave  two  hundred 
thousand  livres  to  the  Abbe  Something-or-other,  who 
asked  for  it,  and  another  thousand  livres  to  that 


398          THE   MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

rat  Dubois.  The  thief  D'Argenson  ever  counsels  him 
to  give  in  abundance  now  that  he  hath  abundance, 
and  the  regent  is  ready  with  a  vengeance  with  his 
compliance.  Saint  Simon,  that  priggish  duke,  has 
had  a  million  given  him  to  repay  a  debt  his  father 
took  on  for  the  king  a  generation  ago.  To  the  cap 
tain  of  the  guard  the  regent  gives  six  hundred  thou 
sand  livres,  for  carrying  the  fan  of  the  regent's 
forgotten  wife;  to  the  Prince  Courtenay,  two  hun 
dred  thousand,  most  like  because  the  prince  said 
he  had  need  of  it;  a  pension  of  two  hundred  thou 
sand  annually  to  the  Marquise  de  Bellefonte,  the 
second  such  sum,  because  perhaps  she  once  made  eyes 
at  him;  a  pension  of  sixty  thousand  livres  to  a 
three-year-old  relative  to  the  Prince  de  Conti,  be 
cause  Conti  cried  for  it;  one  hundred  thousand 
livres  to  Mademoiselle  Haidee,  because  she  has  a 
consumption;  and  as  much  more  to  the  Duchesse  de 
Falari,  because  she  has  not  a  consumption.  Bah! 
The  credit  of  France  might  indeed,  as  my  husband 
says,  be  called  leaking  through  the  slats  of  fans/* 

"But,  look  you!"  she  went  on,  "how  Mr.  Law 
feathers  his  own  nest.  He  bought  lately,  for  a  half 
million  livres,  the  house  of  the  Comte  de  Tesse; 
and  on  the  same  day,  as  you  know,  the  Hotel  Mazarin. 
There  is  no  limit  to  his  buying  of  estates.  Th'is,  BO 
says  my  husband,  is  the  great  proof  of  his  honesty. 


THE    NEWS  399 

He  puts  his  money  here  in  France,  and  does  not  send 
it  over  seas.  He  seems  to  have  no  doubt,  and  indeed 
no  fear,  of  anything." 

Lady  Warrington  paused,  half  for  want  of 
breath.  Silence  fell  in  the  great  room.  A  big  and 
busy  fly,  deep  down  in  the  crystal  cylindre  which 
sheltered  a  taper  on  a  near-by  table,  buzzed  out  a 
droning  protest.  The  face  of  Lady  Catharine  was 
averted. 

"You  did  not  tell  me,  Lady  Emily,"  said  she,  with 
woman's  feigned  indifference,  "what  was  the  name 
of  this  poor  woman  of  the  other  evening." 

"Why,  so  I  had  forgot — and  'tis  said  that  Mr. 
Law,  after  all,  comported  himself  something  of  the 
gentleman.  No  one  knows  how  far  back  the  affair 
runs,  nor  how  serious  it  was.  And  indeed  I  have 
seen  no  one  who  ever  heard  of  the  woman  before." 

"And  the  name?" 

"'Twas  said  Mr.  Law  called  her  Mary  Con- 
nynge." 

The  big  fly,  deep  down  in  the  crystal  cage,  buzzed 
on  audibly;  and  to  one  who  heard  it,  the  drone  of 
the  lazy  wings  seemed  like  the  roars  of  a  thousand 
tempests. 


CHAPTEK  X 

MASTER  AND  MAN 

John  Law,  idle,  preoccupied,  sat  gazing  out  at 
the  busy  scenes  of  the  street  before  him.  The  room 
in  which  he  found  himself  was  one  of  a  suite  in  that 
magnificent  Hotel  de  Soisson,  bought  but  recently 
of  the  Prince  de  Carignan  for  the  sum  of  one 
million  four  hundred  thousand  livres,  which  had  of 
late  been  chosen  as  the  temple  of  Fortuna.  The 
great  gardens  of  this  distinguished  site  were  now 
filled  with  hundreds  of  tents  and  kiosks,  which  of 
fered  quarters  for  the  wild  mob  of  speculators  which 
surged  and  swirled  and  fought  throughout  the  nar 
row  avenues,  contending  for  the  privilege  of  buying 
the  latest  issue  of  the  priceless  shares  of  the  Com 
pany  of  the  Indies. 

The  System  was  at  its  height.  The  bubble  was 
blown  to  its  last  limit.  The  popular  delirium  had 
grown  to  its  last  possible  degree. 

From  the  window  these  mad  mobs  of  infuriated 
human  beings  might  have  seemed  so  many  little 
(400) 


MASTER   AND   MAN  401 

ants,  running  about  as  though  their  home  had  been 
destroyed  above  their  heads.  They  hastened  as 
though  fleeing  from  the  breath  of  some  devouring 
flame.  Surely  the  point  of  flame  was  there,  at  that 
focus  of  Paris,  this  focus  of  all  Europe;  and  thrice 
refined  was  the  quality  of  this  heat,  burning  out  the 
hearts  of  those  distracted  ones. 

Yet  it  was  a  scene  not  altogether  without  its  fas 
cinations.  Hither  came  titled  beauties  of  Paris, 
peers  of  the  realm,  statesmen,  high  officials,  princes 
of  the  blood;  all  these  animated  but  by  one  purpose 
— to  bid  and  outbid  for  these  bits  of  paper,  which 
for  the  moment  meant  wealth,  luxury,  ease,  every 
imaginable  desire.  It  seemed  indeed  that  the  world 
was  mad.  Tradesmen,  artisans,  laborers,  peasants, 
jostled  the  princes  and  nobility,  nor  met  reproof. 
Eank  was  forgotten.  Democracy,  for  the  first  time 
on  earth,  had  arrived.  All  were  equal  who  held 
equal  numbers  of  these  shares.  The  mind  of  each 
was  blank  to  all  but  one  absorbing  theme. 

Law  looked  over  this  familiar  scene,  indifferent, 
calm,  almost  moody,  his  cheek  against  his  hand,  his 
elbow  on  his  chair.  "What  was  the  call,  Henri/' 
asked  he,  at  length,  of  the  old  Swiss  who  had,  dur 
ing  these  stormy  times,  been  so  long  his  faithful 
attendant.  "What  was  the  last  quotation  that  you 
heard?" 


402          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

"Your  Honor,  there  are  no  quotations,"  replied 
the  attendant.  "  "Pis  only  as  one  is  able  to  buy. 
The  actions  of  the  last  issue,  three  hundred  thou 
sand  in  all,  were  swept  away  at  a  breath  at  fifteen 
thousand  livres  the  share." 

"Ninety  times  what  their  face  demands,"  said 
Law,  impassively. 

"True,  some  ninety  times,"  said  the  Swiss.  "  'Tis 
said  that  of  this  issue  the  regent  has  taken  over 
one-third,  or  one  hundred  thousand,  himself.  'Tis 
this  that  makes  the  price  of  the  other  two-thirds 
run  the  higher,  since  'tis  all  that  the  public  has  to 
buy." 

"Lucky  regent,"  said  Law,  sententiously.  "Plenty 
would  seem  to  have  been  his  fortune !" 

He  grimly  turned  again  to  his  study  of  the  crowds 
which  swarmed  among  the  pavilions  before  his  win 
dow.  Outside  his  door  he  heard  knockings  and 
cries,  and  impatient  footfalls,  but  neither  he  nor 
the  impassive  Swiss  paid  to  these  the  least  atten 
tion.  It  was  to  them  an  old  experience. 

"Your  Honor,  the  Prince  de  Conti  is  in  the  ante 
chamber  and  would  see  you,"  at  length  ventured 
the  attendant,  after  listening  for  some  time  with 
his  ear  at  an  aperture  in  the  door. 

"Let  the  Prince  de  Conti  wait,"  said  Law,  "and 
a  plague  take  him  for  a  grasping  miser!  He  has 


MASTER   AND   MAN"  403 

gained  enough.     Time  was  when  I  waited  at  his 
door." 

"The  Abbe  Dubois — here  is  his  message  pushed 
beneath  the  door." 

"My  dearest  enemy,"  replied  Law,  calmly.     "The 
old  rat  may  seek  another  burrow." 
"The  Duchesse  de  la  Eochefoucauld." 
"Ah,  then,  she  hath  overcome  her  husband's  right 
eousness  of  resolution,  and  would  beg  a  share  or  so? 
Let  her  wait.     I  find  these  duchesses  the  most  tire 
some  animals  in  the  world." 
"The  Madame  de  Tencin." 
"I  can  not  see  the  Madame  de  Tencin." 
"A  score  of  dukes  and  foreign  princes.     My  faith ! 
master,  we  have  never  had  so  large  a  line  of  guests 
as  come  this  morning."     The  stolid  impassiveness 
of  the  Swiss  seemed  on  the  point  of  giving  way. 

"Let  them  wait,"  replied  Law,  evenly  as  before. 
"Not  one  of  them  would  listen  to  me  five  years  ago. 
Now  I  shall  listen  to  them — shall  listen  to  them 
knocking  at  my  door,  as  I  have  knocked  at  theirs. 
To-day  I  am  aweary,  and  not  of  mind  to  see  any  one. 
Let  them  wait." 

"But  what  shall  I  say?  What  shall  I  tell  them, 
my  master?" 

"Tell  them  nothing.     Let  them  wait." 

Thus  the  crowd  of  notables  packed  into  the  ante- 


404          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

rooms  waited  at  the  door,  fuming  and  execrating, 
yet  not  departing.  They  all  awaited  the  magi 
cian,  each  with  the  same  plea — some  hope  of  favor, 
of  advancement,  or  of  gain. 

At  last  there  arose  yet  a  greater  tumult  in  the 
hall  which  led  to  the  door.  A  squad  of  guardsmen 
pushed  through  the  packed  ranks  with  the  cry: 
"For  the  king!"  The  regent  of  France  stood  at 
the  closed  door  of  the  man  who  was  still  the  real 
ruler  of  France. 

"Open,  open,  in  the  name  of  the  king!"  cried 
one,  as  he  beat  loudly  on  the  panels. 

Law  turned  languidly  toward  the  attendant. 
"Henri,"  said  he,  "tell  them  to  be  more  quiet." 

"My  master,  'tis  the  regent!"  expostulated  the 
other,  with  somewhat  of  anxiety  in  his  tones. 

"Let  him  wait,"  replied  Law,  coolly.  "I  have 
waited  for  him." 

"But,  my  master,  they  protest,  they  clamor — " 

"Very  well.  Let  them  do  so — but  stay.  If  it  is 
indeed  the  regent,  I  may  as  well  meet  him  now 
and  say  that  which  is  in  my  mind.  Open  the  door." 

The  door  swung  open  and  there  entered  the  form 
of  Philippe  of  Orleans,  preceded  by  his  halberdiers 
and  followed  close  by  a  rush  of  humanity  which 
the  guards  and  the  Swiss  together  had  much  pains 
to  force  back  into  the  anteroom. 


MASTEE    AND    MAN  405 

"How  now,  Monsieur  L'as,  how  now  ?"  fumed  the 
regent,  his  heavy  face  glowing  a  dull  red,  his  prom 
inent  eyes  still  more  protruding,  his  forehead  bent 
into  a  heavy  frown.  "You  deny  entrance  to  our  per 
son,  who  are  next  to  the  body  of  his  Majesty  ?" 

"Did  you  have  delay?"  asked  Law,  sweetly. 
"  'Twas  unfortunate." 

"  'Twas  execrable !" 

"True.     I  myself  find  these  crowds  execrable." 

"Nay,  execrable  to  suffer  this  annoyance  of  delay !" 

"Your  Grace's  pardon,"  said  Law,  coolly.  "You 
should  have  made  an  appointment  a  few  days  in 
advance." 

"What!  The  regent  of  France  need  to  arrange 
a  day  when  he  would  see  a  servant !" 

"Your  Grace  is  unfortunate  in  his  choice  of 
words,"  replied  Law,  blandly.  "I  am  not  your  serv 
ant.  I  am  your  master." 

The  regent  sank  back  into  a  chair,  gasping,  his 
hand  clutching  at  the  hilt  of  his  sword. 

"Seize  him!  Seize  him!  To  the  Bastille  with 
him !  The  presumer !  The  impostor !" 

Yet  even  the  guards  hesitated  before  the  command 
ing  presence  of  that  man  whom  all  had  been  so  long 
accustomed  to  obey.  With  hand  upraised,  Law 
gazed  at  them  for  one  instant,  and  then  gave  them 
no  further  attention. 


406          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

"Yet  these  words  I  must  hasten  to  qualify,"  re 
sumed  he.  "True,  I  am  at  this  moment  your  master, 
your  Grace,  but  two  minutes  hence,  and  for  all 
time  thereafter,  I  shall  no  longer  be  your  master. 
Your  Grace  was  once  so  good  as  to  make  me  head 
of  certain  financial  matters,  and  to  give  me  control  of 
them.  The  fabric  of  this  Messasebe,  which  you  see 
without,  was  all  my  own.  It  was  this  which  made 
me  master  of  Paris,  and  of  every  man  within  the 
gates  of  Paris.  So  far,  very  well.  My  plans  were 
honest,  and  the  growth  of  France — nay,  let  us  say 
the  resurrection  of  France — the  new  life  of  France 
— shows  how  my  own  plans  were  made  and  how  well 
I  knew  that  which  was  to  happen.  I  made  you  rich, 
your  Grace.  I  gave  you  funds  to  pay  off  millions 
of  your  private  debts,  millions  to  gratify  your  fan 
cies.  I  gave  you  more  millions  to  pay  the  debts  of 
France.  France  and  her  regent  have  again  taken  a 
position  of  honor  in  the  eyes  of  the  world.  You  may 
well  call  me  master  of  your  fate,  who  have  been  able 
to  accomplish  these  things.  So  long  as  you  knew 
your  master,  you  did  well.  Now  your  Grace  has 
seen  fit  to  change  masters.  He  would  be  his  own 
master  again.  There  can  not  be  two  in  control  of 
a  concern  like  this.  Sir,  the  two  minutes  have 
elapsed.  I  am  your  very  humble  servant !" 


MASTER   AND   MAN"  407 

The  regent  still  sat  staring  from  his  chair,  and 
speech  was  yet  denied  him. 

"There  are  your  people.  There  is  your  France," 
said  Law,  beckoning  as  he  turned  toward  the  win 
dow  and  pointing  to  the  crowd  without.  "There  is 
your  France.  Now  handle  it,  my  master!  Here 
are  the  reins !  Now  drive ;  but  see  that  you  be  care 
ful  how  you  drive.  Come,  your  Grace,"  said  he, 
mockingly,  over  his  shoulder.  "Come,  and  see  your 
France !" 

The  audacity  of  John  Law  was  a  thing  without 
parallel,  as  had  been  proved  a  hundred  times  in  his 
strange  life  and  in  a  hundred  places.  His  sheer 
contemptuous  daring  brought  Philippe  of  Orleans 
to  his  senses.  He  relaxed  now  in  his  purpose, 
changeable  as  was  his  wont,  and  advanced  towards 
Law  with  hand  outstretched. 

"There,  there,  Monsieur  L'as,  I  did  you  wrong, 
perhaps/'  said  he.  "But  as  to  these  hasty  words, 
pray  reconsider  them  at  once.  'Twill  have  a  bad 
effect  should  a  breath  of  this  get  afloat.  Indeed, 
'twas  because  of  some  such  thing  that  I  came  to 
see  you  this  morning.  A  most  unspeakable,  a  most 
incredible  thing  hath  occurred.  It  comes  to  me  with 
certain  confirmation  that  there  have  been  shares 
sold  upon  the  street  at  twelve  thousand  livres  to  the 


408           THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

action,  whereas,  as  you  very  well  know,  fifteen  thou 
sand  should  be  the  lowest  price  to-day." 

"And  what  of  that,  your  Grace  ?"  said  Law,  calmly. 
"Is  it  not  what  you  planned?  Is  it  not  what  you 
have  been  expecting  ?" 

"How,  sirrah !     What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"Why,  I  mean  this,  your  Grace,"  said  Law,  calmly, 
"that  since  you  have  taken  the  reins,  it  is  you  who 
must  drive  the  chariot.  I  shall  suggest  no  plans, 
shall  offer  no  remedy.  But,  if  you  still  lack  ability 
to  see  how  and  why  this  thing  has  attained  this 
situation,  I  will  take  so  much  trouble  as  to  make 
it  plain." 

"Go  on,  then,  sir/'  said  the  regent.  "Is  not  all 
well?  Is  there  any  danger?" 

"As  to  danger/'  said  Law,  "we  can  not  call  it  a 
time  of  danger  after  the  worst  has  happened." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"Why,  that  the  worst  has  happened.  But,  as  I 
was  about  to  say,  I  shall  tell  you  how  it  happened." 

The  gaze  of  the  regent  fell.  His  hand  trembled 
as  he  fumbled  at  his  sword  hilt. 

"Your  Grace,"  said  Law,  calmly,  "will  do  me  the 
kindness  to  remember  that  when  I  first  asked  of 
you  the  charter  of  the  Banque  Generale,  to  be  taken 
privately  in  the  name  of  myself  and  my  brother,  I 
told  you  that  any  banker  merited  the  punishment  of 


MASTER    AND    MAN"  409 

death  if  he  issued  notes  or  bills  of  exchange  without 
having  their  effective  value  safe  in  his  own  strong 
boxes." 

"Well,  what  of  that  ?"  queried  the  regent,  weakly. 

"Nothing,  your  Grace,  except  that  your  Grace  de 
serves  the  punishment  of  death." 

"How,  sir!     Good  God!" 

"If  the  truth  of  this  matter  should  ever  become 
known,  those  people  out  there,  that  France  yonder, 
would  tear  your  Grace  limb  from  limb,  and  trample 
you  in  the  dust !" 

The  livid  face  of  the  regent  went  paler  as  the 
other  spoke.  There  was  conviction  in  those  tones 
which  could  not  fail  to  reach  even  his  heavy  wits. 

"Let  me  explain,"  went  on  Law.  "I  beg  your 
Grace  to  remember  again,  that  when  your  Grace 
was  good  enough  to  take  out  of  the  hands  of  my 
brother  and  myself  our  little  bank — which  we  had 
run  honorably  and  successfully — you  changed  at  one 
sweep  the  whole  principle  of  honest  banking.  You 
promised  to  pay  something  which  was  unstipulated. 
You  issued  a  note  back  of  which  there  was  no  value, 
no  fixed  limit  of  measurement.  Twice  you  have 
changed  the  coinage  of  the  realm,  and  twice  assigned 
a  new  value  to  your  specie.  No  one  can  tell  what 
one  of  your  shares  in  the  stock  of  the  Indies  means 
in  actual  coin.  It  means  nothing,  stands  for  noth- 


410          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

ing,  is  good  for  nothing.  Now,  think  you,  when 
these  people,  when  this  France  shall  discover  these 
facts,  that  they  will  be  lenient  with  those  who  have 
thus  deceived  them?" 

"Yet  your  theory  always  was  that  we  had  too 
great  a  scarcity  of  money  here  in  France,"  expostu 
lated  the  regent. 

"True,  so  I  did.  We  had  not  enough  of  good 
money.  We  can  not  have  too  little  of  false  money, 
of  money  such  as  your  Grace — as  you  thought  with 
out  my  knowledge — has  been  so  eager  to  issue  from 
the  presses  of  our  Company.  It  had  been  an  easy 
thing  for  the  regent  of  France  to  pay  off  all  the 
debts  of  the  world  from  now  until  the  verge  of 
eternity,  had  not  his  presses  given  out.  Money  of 
that  sort,  your  Grace,  is  such  as  any  man  could  print 
for  himself,  did  he  but  have  the  linen  and  the  ink." 

The  regent  again  dropped  to  his  chair,  his  head 
falling  forward  upon  his  breast. 

"But  what  does  it  all  mean  ?  What  shall  be  done  ? 
What  will  be  the  result  ?"  he  asked,  his  voice  showing 
well  enough  the  anxiety  which  had  swiftly  fallen 
upon  his  soul. 

"As  to  that,"  replied  Law,  laconically,  "I  am  no 
longer  master  here.  I  am  not  controller  of  finance. 
Appoint  Dubois,  appoint  D'Argenson.  Send  for  the 
Brothers  Paris.  Take  them  to  this  window,  your 


MASTER    AND    MAN  411 

Grace,  and  show  them  your  people,  show  them  your 
France,  and  then  ask  them  to  tell  you  what  shall 
be  done.  Cry  out  to  all  the  world,  as  I  know  you 
will,  that  this  was  the  fault  of  an  unknown  adven 
turer,  of  a  Scotch  gambler,  of  one  John  Law,  who 
brought  forth  some  pretentious  schemes  to  the  detri 
ment  of  the  realm.  Saddle  upon  me  the  blame  for 
all  this  ruin  which  is  coming.  Malign  me,  misrep 
resent  me,  imprison  me,  exile  me,  behead  me  if  you 
like,  and  blame  John  Law  for  the  discomfiture  of 
France !  But  when  you  come  to  seek  your  remedies, 
why,  ask  no  more  of  John  Law.  Ask  of  Dubois,  ask 
of  D'Argenson,  ask  of  the  Paris  Freres ;  or,  since  your 
Grace  has  seen  fit  to  override  me  and  to  take  these 
matters  in  his  own  hands,  let  your  Grace  ask  of 
himself!  Tell  me,  as  regent  of  France,  as  master 
of  Paris,  as  guardian  of  the  rights  of  this  young 
king,  as  controller  of  the  finances  of  France,  as 
savior  or  destroyer  of  the  welfare  of  these  people 
of  France  and  of  that  America  which  is  greater 
than  this  France — tell  me,  what  will  you  do,  your 
Grace  ?  What  do  you  suggest  as  remedy  ?" 

"You  devil!  you  arch  fiend!"  exclaimed  the  re 
gent,  starting  up  and  laying  his  hand  on  his  sword. 
"There  is  no  punishment  you  do  not  deserve !  You 
will  leave  me  in  this  plight — you — you,  who  have  sup 
planted  me  at  every  turn ;  you  who  made  that  horrible 


412          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

scene*  but  lasi>  night  at  my  own  table,  within  the  very 
gates  of  the  Palais  Royal;  you,  the  murderer  of  the 
woman  I  adored !  And  now,  you  mocker  and  flouter 
of  what  may  be  my  bitterest  misfortune — why,  sir, 
no  punishment  is  sharp  enough  for  you !  Why  do 
you  stand  there,  sir?  Do  you  dare  to  mock  me — 
to  mock  us,  the  person  of  the  king  ?" 

"I  mock  not  in  the  least,  your  Grace,"  said  John 
Law,  "nor  do  aught  else  that  ill  beseems  a  gentle 
man.  I  should  have  been  proud  to  be  known  as  the 
friend  of  Philippe  of  Orleans,  yet  I  stand  before 
that  Philippe  of  Orleans  and  tell  him  that  that  man 
doth  not  live,  nor  that  set  of  terrors  exist,  which  can 
frighten  John  Law,  nor  cause  him  to  depart  from 
that  stand  which  he  once  has  taken.  Sir,  if  you 
seek  to  frighten  me,  you  fail." 

"But,  look  you — consider,"  said  the  regent. 
"Something  must  be  done." 

"As  I  said,"  replied  Law. 

"But  what  is  going  to  happen?  What  will  the 
people  do  ?" 

"First,"  said  Law,  judicially,  flicking  at  the  deep 
lace  of  his  cuff  as  though  he  were  taking  into  con 
sideration  the  price  of  a  wig  or  cane,  "first,  the 
price  of  a  share  having  gone  to  twelve  thousand 
livres  this  morning,  by  two  o'clock  will  be  so  low 


MASTER    AND    MAN  413 

as  ten  thousand.  By  three  o'clock  this  afternoon 
it  will  be  six  thousand.  Then,  your  Grace,  there 
will  be  panic.  Then  the  spell  will  be  broken. 
France  will  rub  her  eyes  and  begin  to  awaken. 
Then,  since  the  king  can  do  no  wrong,  and 
since  the  regent  is  the  king,  your  Grace  can  do 
one  of  two  things.  He  can  send  a  body-guard  to 
watch  my  door,  or  he  can  see  John  Law  torn  into 
fragments,  as  these  people  would  tear  the  real  au 
thor  of  their  undoing,  did  they  but  recognize  him." 

"But  can  nothing  be  done  to  stop  this?  Can  it 
not  be  accommodated  ?" 

"Ask  yourself.  But  I  must  go  on  to  say  what  these 
people  will  do.  All  at  once  they  will  demand  specie 
for  their  notes.  The  Prince  de  Conti  will  drive  his 
coaches  to  the  door  of  your  bank,  and  demand  that 
they  be  loaded  with  gold.  Jacques  and  Eaoul  and 
Pierre,  and  every  peasant  and  pavior  in  Paris  will 
come  with  boxes  and  panniers,  and  each  of  them  will 
also  demand  his  gold.  Make  edicts,  your  Grace. 
Publish  broadcast  and  force  out  into  publicity,  on 
every  highway  of  France,  your  decree  that  gold  and 
silver  are  not  so  good  as  your  bank  notes;  that  no 
one  must  have  gold  or  silver ;  that  no  one  must  send 
his  gold  and  silver  out  of  France,  but  that  all  must 
bring  it  to  the  king  and  take  for  it  in  exchange 


414          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

these  notes  of  yours.  Try  that.  It  ought  to  succeed, 
ought  it  not,  your  Grace  ?"  His  bantering  tone  sank 
into  one  of  half  plausibility. 

"Why,  surely.    That  would  be  the  solution." 

"Oh,  think  you  so  ?  Your  Grace  is  wondrous  keen 
as  a  financier !  Now  take  the  counsel  of  Dubois,  of 
D'Argenson,  my  very  good  friends.  This  is  what 
they  will  counsel  you  to  do.  And  I  will  counsel  you 
at  the  same  time  to  avail  yourself  of  their  advice. 
Tell  all  France  to  bring  in  its  gold,  to  enable  you 
to  put  something  essential  under  the  value  of  all 
this  paper  money  which  you  have  been  sending  out 
so  lavishly,  so  unthinkingly,  so  without  stint  or 
measure/' 

"Yes.     And  then?" 

"Why,  then,  your  Grace,"  said  Law,  "then  we 
shall  see  what  we  shall  see!" 

The  regent  again  choked  with  anger.  Law  con 
tinued.  "Go  on.  Smooth  down  the  back  of  this 
animal.  Continue  to  reduce  these  taxes.  The  spe 
cie  of  the  realm  of  France,  as  I  am  banker  enough 
to  know,  is  not  more  than  thirteen  hundred  millions 
of  livres,  allowing  sixty-five  livres  to  the  marc.  Yet 
long  before  this  your  Grace  has  crowded  the  issue 
of  our  actions  until  there  are  out  not  less  than 
twenty-six  hundred  millions  of  livres  in  the  stock  of 
our  Company.  Your  Brothers  Paris,  your  D'Argen- 


MASTER   AND   MAN  415 

son,  your  Dubois  will  tell  you  how  you  can  make  the 
people  of  France  continue  to  believe  that  twice  two 
is  not  four,  that  twice  thirteen  is  not  twenty-six !" 

"But  this  they  are  doing,"  broke  in  the  regent, 
with  a  ray  of  hope  in  his  face.  "This  they  are 
doing.  We  have  provided  for  that.  In  the  council 
not  an  hour  ago  the  Abbe  Dubois  and  Monsieur 
d'Argenson  decided  that  the  time  had  come  to  make 
some  fixed  proportion  between  the  specie  and  these 
notes.  We  have  to-day  framed  an  edict,  which  the 
Parliament  will  register,  stating  that  the  interests  of 
the  subjects  of  the  king  require  that  the  price  of  these 
bank  notes  should  be  lessened,  so  that  there  may  be 
some  sort  of  accommodation  between  them  and  the 
coin  of  the  realm.  We  have  ordered  that  the  shares 
shall,  within  thirty  days,  drop  to  seventy-five  hun 
dred  livres,  in  another  thirty  days  to  seven  thousand 
livres,  and  so  on,  at  five  hundred  livres  a  month, 
until  at  last  they  shall  have  a  value  of  one-half  what 
they  were  to-day.  Then,  tell  me,  my  wise  Monsieur 
L'as,  would  not  the  issue  of  our  notes  and  the  total 
of  our  specie  be  equal,  one  with  the  other?  The 
only  wrong  thing  is  this  insulting  presumption  of 
these  people,  who  have  sold  actions  at  a  price  lower 
than  we  have  decreed." 

Law  smiled  as  he  replied.  "You  say  excellently 
well,  my  master.  These  plans  surely  show  that  you 


416          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

and  your  able  counselors  have  studied  deeply  the 
questions  of  finance!  I  have  told  you  what  would 
happen  to-day  without  any  decree  of  the  king.  Now 
go  you  on,  and  make  your  decrees.  You  will  find 
that  the  people  are  much  more  eager  for  values 
which  are  going  up  than  values  which  are  going 
down.  Start  your  shares  down  hill,  and  you  will 
see  all  France  scramble  for  such  coin,  such  plate, 
such  jewels  as  may  be  within  the  ability  of  France 
to  lay  her  hands  upon.  Tell  me,  your  Grace,  did 
Monsieur  d'Argenson  advise  you  this  morning  as 
to  the  total  issue  of  the  actions  of  this  Company  ?" 

"Surely  he  did,  and  here  I  have  it  in  memo 
randum,  for  I  was  to  have  taken  it  up  with  yourself," 
replied  the  regent. 

"So,"  exclaimed  Law,  a  look  of  surprise  passing 
over  his  countenance,  until  now  rigidly  controlled, 
as  he  gazed  at  the  little  sli-p  of  paper.  "Your  Grace 
advises  me  that  there  are  issued  at  this  time  in  the 
shares  of  the  Company  no  less  than  two  billion,  two 
hundred  and  thirty-five  million,  eighty-five  thousand, 
five  hundred  and  ninety  livres  in  notes!  Against 
this,  as  your  Grace  is  good  enough  to  agree  with 
me,  we  have  thirteen  hundred  millions  of  specie. 
Your  Grace,  yourself  and  I  have  seen  some  pretty 
games  in  our  day.  Look  you,  the  merriest  game  of 
all  your  life  is  now  but  just  before  you 1" 


MASTEK    AND   MAN  417 

"And  you  would  go  and  leave  me  at  this  time?" 
"Never  in  my  life  have  I  forsaken  a  friend  at  the 
time  of  distress/'  replied  Law.  "But  your  Grace 
absolved  me  when  you  forsook  me,  when  you  doubted 
and  hesitated  regarding  me,  and  believed  the  protes 
tations  of  those  not  so  able  as  myself  to  judge  of  what 
was  best.  And  now  it  is  too  late.  Will  your  Grace 
allow  me  to  suggest  that  a  place  behind  stout  gates 
and  barred  doors,  deep  within  the  interior  of  the 
Palais  Eoyal,  will  be  the  best  residence  for  him  to 
night — perhaps  for  several  nights  to  come  ?" 
"And  yourself?" 

"As  for  myself,  it  does  not  matter,"  replied  Law, 
slowly  and  deliberately.  "I  have  lived,  and  I 
thought  I  had  succeeded.  Indeed,  success  was  minfe 
for  some  short  months,  though  now  I  must  meet  fail 
ure.  I  have  this  to  console  me — that  'twas  failure 
not  of  my  own  fault.  As  for  France,  I  loved  her. 
As  for  America,  I  believe  in  her  to-day,  this  very 
hour.  As  for  your  Grace  in  person,  I  was  your 
friend,  nor  was  I  ever  disloyal  to  you.  But  it  some 
times  doth  seem  that,  no  matter  how  sincere  be  one 
in  one's  endeavors,  no  matter  how  cherished,  no 
matter  how  successful  for  a  time  may  be  his  ambi 
tions,  there  is  ever  some  little  blight  to  eat  the  face 
of  the  full  fruit  of  his  happiness.  To-morrow  I 
shall  perhaps  not  be  alive.  It  is  very  well.  There 


418          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

is  nothing  I  could  desire,  and  it  is  as  well  to-morrow 
as  at  any  time." 

"But  surely,  Monsieur  L'as,"  interrupted  the  re 
gent,  with  a  trace  of  his  old  generosity,  "if  there 
should  he  outbreak,  as  you  fear,  I  shall,  of  course, 
give  you  a  guard.  I  shall  indeed  see  you  safe  out 
of  the  city,  if  you  so  prefer,  though  I  had  much 
liefer  you  would  remain  and  try  to  help  us  undo 
this  coil,  wherein  I  much  misdoubt  myself." 

"Your  Grace,  I  am  a  disappointed  man,  a  man 
with  nothing  in  the  world  to  comfort  him.  I  have 
said  that  I  would  not  help  you,  since  'twas  yourself 
brought  ruin  on  my  plans,  and  cast  down  that  work 
which  I  had  labored  all  my  life  to  finish.  Yet  I 
will  advise  this,  as  being  your  most  immediate  plan. 
Smooth  down  this  France  as  best  you  may.  Eemit 
more  taxes,  as  I  said.  Depreciate  the  value  of  these 
shares  gently,  but  rapidly  as  you  can.  Institute 
great  numbers  of  perpetual  annuities.  Juggle,  tem 
porize,  postpone,  get  for  yourself  all  the  time  you 
can.  Trade  for  the  people's  shares  all  you  have 
that  they  will  take.  You  can  never  strike  a  balance, 
and  can  never  atone  for  the  egregious  error  of  this 
over-issue  of  stock  which  has  no  intrinsic  value. 
Eventually  you  may  have  to  declare  void  many  of 
these  shares  and  withdraw  from  the  currency  these 


MASTER    AND    MAN"  419 

actions  for  which  so  recently  the  people  have  been 
clamoring." 

"That  means  repudiation!"  broke  in  the  re 
gent. 

"Certainly,  your  Grace,  and  in  so  far  your  Grace 
has  my  extremest  sympathy.  I  know  it  was  your 
resolve  not  to  repudiate  the  debts  of  France,  as 
those  debts  stood  when  I  first  met  you  some  years 
ago.  That  was  honorable.  Yet  now  the  debts  of 
France  are  immeasurably  greater,  rich  as  France 
thinks  herself  to  be.  Not  all  France,  were  the  peo 
ple  and  the  produce  of  the  commerce  counted  in 
the  coin,  could  pay  the  debt  of  France  as  it  now 
exists.  Hence,  honorable  or  not,  there  is  nothing 
else — it  is  repudiation  which  now  confronts  you. 
France  is  worse  than  bankrupt.  And  now  it  would 
seem  wise  if  your  Grace  took  immediate  steps,  not 
only  for  the  safety  of  his  person,  but  for  the  safety 
of  the  Government." 

"Sir,  do  you  mean  that  the  people  would  dare, 
that  they  would  presume — " 

"The  people  are  not  what  they  were.  There  hath 
come  into  Europe  the  leaven  of  the  New  World. 
I  had  looked  there  to  see  a  nobler  and  a  better 
France.  It  is  too  late  for  that,  and  surely  it  is 
too  late  for  the  old  ways  of  this  France  which  we 


420          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

see  about  us.  You  can  not  presume  now  upon  the 
temper  of  these  folk  as  you  might  have  done  fifty 
years  ago.  The  Messasebe,  that  noble  stream,  it  hath 
swept  its  purifying  flood  throughout  the  world! 
Look  you,  at  this  moment  there  is  tumbling  this 
house  which  we  have  built  of  bubbles,  one  bubble 
upon  another,  blowing  each  bubble  bigger  and  thinner 
than  the  last.  Mine  is  not  the  only  fault,  nor  yet 
the  greatest  fault.  I  was  sincere,  where  others 
cared  naught  for  sincerity.  Another  day,  another 
people,  may  yet  say  the  world  was  better  for  my 
effort,  and  that  therefore  at  the  last  I  have  not 
failed." 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE    BREAKING    OF    THE    BUBBLE 

It  was  the  evening  of  the  day  following  that  on 
which  John  Law  and  the  regent  of  France  had 
met  in  their  stormy  interview.  During  the  morning 
but  little  had  transpired  regarding  the  significant 
events  of  the  previous  day.  In  these  vast  and  ex 
cited  crowds,  divided  into  groups  and  cliques  and 
factions,  aided  by  no  bulletins,  counseled  by  no 
printed  page,  there  was  but  little  cohesion  of  pur 
pose,  since  there  was  little  unity  of  understanding. 
The  price  of  shares  at  one  kiosk  might  be  certain 
thousands  of  livres,  whereas  a  square  away,  the 
price  might  vary  by  half  as  many  livres;  so  im 
petuous  was  the  advance  of  these  continually  rising 
prices,  and  so  frenzied  and  careless  the  temper  of 
those  who  bargained  for  them. 

Yet  before  noon  of  the  day  following  the  decree 
of  the  regent,  which  fixed  the  value  of  actions 
upon  a  descending  scale,  the  news,  after  a  fashion 
of  its  own,  spread  rapidly  abroad,  and  all  too  swiftly 
the  truth  was  generally  known.  The  story  started 
.(421) 


422          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

in  a  rumor  that  shares  had  been  offered  and  de 
clined  at  a  price  which  had  been  current  but  a  few 
moments  before.  This  was  something  which  had 
not  been  known  in  all  these  feverish  months  of  the 
Messasebe.  Then  came  the  story  that  shares  could 
not  be  counted  upon  to  realize  over  eight  thousand 
livres.  At  that  the  price  of  all  the  actions  dropped 
in  a  flash,  as  Law  had  prophesied.  A  sudden  wave 
of  sanity,  a  panic  chill  of  sober  understanding  swept 
over  this  vast  multitude  of  still  unreasoning  souls 
who  had  traded  so  long  upon  this  impossible  suppo 
sition  of  an  ever-advancing  market.  Reason  still 
lacked  among  them,  yet  fear  and  sudden  suspicion 
were  not  wanting.  Man  after  man  hastened  swiftly 
away  to  sell  privately  his  shares  before  greater  drop 
in  the  price  might  come.  He  met  others  upon  the 
same  errand. 

Precisely  the  reverse  of  the  old  situation  now  ob 
tained.  As  all  Paris  had  fought  to  buy,  so  now  all 
Paris  fought  to  sell.  The  streets  were  filled  with 
clamoring  mobs.  If  earlier  there  had  been  confu 
sion,  now  there  was  pandemonium.  Never  was  such 
a  scene  witnessed.  Never  was  there  chronicled  so 
swift  and  utter  reversion  of  emotion  in  the  minds 
of  a  great  concourse  of  people.  Bitter  indeed  was 
the  wave  of  agony  that  swept  over  Paris.  It  began 
at  the  Messasebe,  in  the  gardens  of  the  Hotel  de 


THE    BREAKING    OF   THE    BUBBLE      423 

Soisson,  at  that  focus  hard  by  the  temple  of  For- 
tuna.  It  spread  and  spread,  edging  out  into  all 
the  remoter  portions  of  the  walled  city.  It  reached 
ultimately  the  extreme  confines  of  Paris.  Into  the 
crowded  square  which  had  been  decreed  as  the  trad 
ing-place  of  the  Messasebe  System,  there  crowded 
from  the  outer  purlieus  yet  other  thousands  of  ex 
cited  human  beings.  The  end  had  come.  The  bub 
ble  had  burst.  There  was  no  longer  any  System  of 
the  Messasebe ! 

It  was  late  in  the  day,  in  fact  well  on  toward 
night,  when  the  knowledge  of  the  crash  came  into  the 
neighborhood  where  dwelt  the  Lady  Catharine  Knol- 
lys.  To  her  the  news  was  brought  by  a  servant, 
who  excitedly  burst  unannounced  into  her  mis 
tress's  presence. 

"Madame !  Madame !"  she  cried.  "Prepare !  'Tis 
horrible!  'Tis  impossible!  All  is  at  an  end!" 

"What  mean  you,  girl!"  cried  Lady  Catharine, 
displeased  at  the  disrespect.  "What  is  happening? 
Is  there  fire?  And  even  if  there  were,  could  you 
not  remember  your  duty  more  seemly  than  this?" 

"Worse,  worse  than  fire,  Madame!  Worse  than 
anything!  The  bank  has  failed!  The  shares  of 
the  System  are  going  down!  'Tis  said  that  we  can 
get  but  three  thousand  livres  the  share,  perhaps 
less — perhaps  they  will  go  down  to  nothing.  I  am 


424          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

ruined,  ruined!  We  are  all  ruined!  And  within 
the  month  I  was  to  have  been  married  to  the  foot 
man  of  the  Marquis  d'Allouez,  who  has  bought 
himself  a  title  this  very  week !" 

"And  if  it  has  fallen  so  ill,"  said  Lady  Catharine, 
"since  I  have  not  speculated  in  these  things  like 
most  folk,  I  shall  be  none  the  worse  for  it,  and 
shall  still  have  money  to  pay  your  wages.  So  per 
haps  you  can  marry  your  marquis  after  all." 

"But  we  shall  not  be  rich,  Madame!  We  are 
ruined,  ruined !  Mon  Dieu!  we  poor  folk !  We  had 
the  hope  to  be  persons  of  quality.  "Pis  all  the  work 
of  this  villain  Jean  L'as.  May  the  Bastille  get  him, 
or  the  people,  and  make  him  pay  for  this !" 

"Stop!  Enough  of  this,  Marie!"  said  the  Lady 
Catharine,  sternly.  "After  this  have  better  wisdom, 
and  do  not  meddle  in  things  which  you  do  not 
understand." 

Yet  scarce  had  the  girl  departed  before  there  ap 
peared  again  the  sound  of  running  steps,  and  pres 
ently  there  broke,  equally  unannounced,  into  the  pres 
ence  of  his  mistress,  the  coachman,  fresh  from  his 
stables  and  none  too  careful  of  his  garb.  Tears 
ran  down  his  cheeks.  He  flung  out  his  hands  with 
gestures  as  of  one  demented. 

"The  news!"  cried  he.     "The  news,  my  Lady! 


THE    BBEAKING    OF    THE    BUBBLE      425 

The  horrible  news!  The  System  has  vanished,  the 
shares  are  going  down !" 

"Fellow,  what  do  you  here  ?"  said  Lady  Catharine. 
"Why  do  you  come  with  this  same  story  which  Marie 
has  just  brought  to  me?  Can  you  not  learn  your 
place?" 

"But,  my  Lady,  you  do  not  understand!"  reiter 
ated  the  man,  blankly.  "  'Tis  all  over.  There  is  no 
Messasebe;  there  is  no  longer  any  System,  no  longer 
any  Company  of  the  Indies.  There  is  no  longer 
wealth  for  the  stretching  out  of  the  hand.  'Tis 
all  over.  I  must  go  back  to  horses — I,  Madame,  who 
should  presently  have  associated  with  the  nobility!" 

"Well,  and  if  so,"  replied  his  mistress,  "I  can 
say  to  you,  as  I  have  to  Marie,  that  there  will  still 
be  money  for  your  wages." 

"Wages !  My  faith,  what  trifles,  my  Lady !  This 
Monsieur  L'as,  the  director-general,  he  it  is  who 
has  ruined  us !  Well  enough  it  is  that  the  square 
in  front  of  his  hotel  is  filled  with  people!  Pres 
ently  they  will  break  down  his  doors.  And  then, 
pray  God  they  punish  him  for  this  that  he  has 
done !" 

The  cheek  of  Lady  Catharine  paled  and  a  sudden 
flood  of  -contending  emotions  crossed  her  mind. 
"You  do  not  tell  me  that  Monsieur  L'as  is  in  dan 
ger,  Pierre?"  said  she. 


426          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

"Assuredly.  Perhaps  within  the  very  hour  they 
will  tear  down  his  doors  and  rend  him  limb  from 
limb.  There  is  no  punishment  which  can.  serve 
him  right— him  who  has  ruined  our  pretty,  pretty 
System.  Mon  Dieu!  It  was  so  beautiful!" 

"Is  this  news  certain  ?" 

"Assuredly,  most  certain.  Why  should  it  not  be  ? 
The  entire  square  in  front  of  the  Hotel  de  Soisson 
is  packed.  Unless  my  Lady  needs  me,  I  myself 
must  hasten  thither  to  aid  in  the  punishment  of 
this  Jean  L'as!" 

"You  will  stay  -here,"  said  Lady  Catharine. 
"Wait!  There  may  be  need!  For  the  present, 
go!" 

Left  alone,  Lady  Catharine  stood  for  a  moment 
pale  and  motionless,  in  the  center  of  the  room. 
She  strode  then  to  the  window  and  stood  looking 
fixedly  out.  Her  whole  figure  was  tense,  rigid. 
Yonder,  over  there,  across  the  gabled  roofs  of  Paris, 
they  were  clamoring  at  the  door  of  him  who  had 
given  back  Paris  to  the  king,  and  France  again 
to  its  people.  They  were  assailing  him — this  man 
so  long  unfaltering,  so  insistent  on  his  ambitions, 
so — so  steadfast!  Could  she  call  him  steadfast? 
And  they  would  seize  him  in  spite  of  the  courage 
which  she  knew  would  never  fail.  They  would  kill, 
they  would  rend,  they  would  trample  him!  They 


THE    BREAKING    OF    THE    BUBBLE      427 

would  crush  that  glorious  body,  abase  the  lips  that 
had  spoke  so  well  of  love ! 

The  clenched  fingers  of  Lady  Catharine  broke 
apart,  her  arms  were  flung  wide  in  a  gesture  of 
resolution.  She  turned  from  the  window,  looking 
here  and  there  about  the  room.  Unconsciously  she 
stopped  before  the  great  cheval-glass  that  hung 
against  the  wall.  She  stood  there,  looking  at  her 
own  image,  keenly,  deeply. 

She  saw  indeed  a  woman  fit  for  sweet  usages  of 
love,  comely  and  rounded,  deep-bosomed,  her  oval 
face  framed  in  the  piled  masses  of  glorious  red-brown 
hair.  But  her  wide,  blue  eyes,  scarce  seeing  this 
outward  form,  stared  into  the  soul  of  that  other 
whom  she  witnessed. 

It  was  as  though  the  Lady  Catharine  Knollys 
at  last  saw  another  self  and  recognized  it!  A 
quick,  hard  sob  broke  from  her  throat.  In  haste 
she  flew,  now  to  one  part  of  the  room,  now  to  an 
other,  picking  up  first  this  article  and  then  that 
which  seemed  of  need.  And  so  at  last  she  hurried 
to  the  bell-cord. 

"Quick/'  cried  she,  as  the  servant  at  length  ap 
peared.  "Quick!  Do  not  delay  an  instant!  My 
carriage  at  once!" 


CHAPTEE  XII 


As  for  John  Law,  all  through  that  fatal  day 
which  meant  for  him  the  ruin  of  his  ambitions, 
he  continued  in  the  icy  calm  which,  for  days  past, 
had  distinguished  him.  He  discontinued  his  ordi 
nary  employments,  and  spent  some  hours  in  sorting 
and  destroying  numbers  of  papers  and  documents. 
His  faithful  servant,  the  Swiss,  Henri,  he  com 
manded  to  make  ready  his  apparel  for  a  journey. 

"At  six  this  evening,"  said  he,  "Henri,  we  shall 
be  ready  to  depart.  Let  us  be  quite  ready  well 
before  that  time." 

"Monsieur  is  leaving  Paris?"  asked  the  Swiss,  re 
spectfully. 

"Quite  so." 

"Perhaps  for  a  stay  of  some  duration?" 

"Quite  so,  indeed,  Henri." 

"Then,  sir,"  expostulated  the  Swiss,  "it  would 
require  a  day  or  so  for  me  to  properly  arrange  your 
luggage." 

"Not  at  all,"  replied  Law.  "Two  valises  will  suf- 
(428) 


THAT    WHICH    EEMAINED  429 

fice,  not  more,  and  I  shall  perhaps  not  need  even 
these." 

"Not  all  the  apparel,  the  many  coats,  the 
jewels — " 

"Do  not  trouble  over  them." 

"But  what  disposition  shall  I  make — ?" 

"None  at  all.  Leave  all  these  things  as  they  are. 
But  stay — this  package  which  I  shall  prepare  for 
you — take  it  to  the  regent,  and  have  it  marked 
in  his  care  and  for  the  Parliament  of  France." 

Law  raised  in  his  hands  a  bundle  of  parchments, 
which  one  by  one  he  tore  across,  throwing  the  frag 
ments  into  a  basket  as  he  did  so. 

"The  seat  of  Tancarville,"  he  said.  "The  estate 
of  Berville;  the  Hotel  Mazarin;  the  lands  of  Bour- 
get;  the  Marquisat  of  Charleville;  the  lands  of 
Orcher ;  the  estate  of  Eoissy — Gad !  what  a  number 
of  them  I  find." 

"But,  Monsieur,"  expostulated  the  Swiss,  "what 
is  that  you  do?  Are  these  not  your  possessions?" 

"Not  so,  mon  ami"  replied  Law.  "They  once 
were  mine.  They  are  estates  in  France.  Take  back 
these  deeds.  Dead  Sully  may  have  his  own  again, 
and  each  of  these  late  owners  of  the  lands.  I  wished 
them  for  a  purpose.  That  purpose  is  no  longer 
possible,  and  now  I  wish  them  no  more.  Take  back 
your  deeds,  my  friends,  and  bear  in  your  minds  that 


430          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

John  Law  tore  them  in  two,  and  thus  canceled  the 
obligation." 

"But  the  moneys  you  have  paid — they  are  enor 
mous.  Surely  you  will  exact  restitution?" 

"Sirrah,  could  I  not  afford  these  moneys?" 

"Admirably  at  the  time,"  replied  the  Swiss,  with 
the  freedom  of  long  service.  "But  for  the  future, 
what  do  we  know?  Besides,  it  is  a  matter  of  right 
and  justice." 

"Ah,  mon  ami"  said  Law,  "right  and  justice  are 
no  more.  But  since  you  speak  of  money,  let  us 
take  precautions  as  to  that.  We  shall  need  some 
money  for  our  journey.  See,  Henri!  Take  this 
note  and  get  the  money  which  it  calls  for.  But  no ! 
The  crowd  may  be  too  great.  Look  in  the  drawer 
of  my  desk  yonder,  and  take  out  what  you  find." 

The  Swiss  did  as  he  was  bidden,  but  at  length 
returned  with  troubled  face. 

"Monsieur,"  said  he,  "I  can  find  but  a  hundred 
louis." 

"Put  half  of  it  back,"  said  Law.  "We  shall 
not  need  so  much." 

"But,  Monsieur,  I  do  not  understand." 

"We  shall  not  need  more  than  fifty  louis.  That 
is  enough.  Leave  the  rest,"  said  Law.  "Leave  it 
where  you  found  it." 

"But  for  whom?    Does  Monsieur  soon  return?" 


THAT   WHICH   REMAINED  431 

"No.  Leave  it  for  him  who  may  be  first  to  find 
it.  These  dear  people  without,  these  same  people 
whom  I  have  enriched,  and  who  now  will  claim 
that  I  have  impoverished  them — these  people  will 
demand  of  me  everything  that  I  have.  As  a  man 
of  honor  I  can  not  deny  them.  They  shall  have 
every  jot  and  stiver  of  the  property  of  John  Law, 
even  the  million  or  so  of  good  coin  which  he  brought 
here  to  Paris  with  him.  The  coat  on  my  back, 
the  wheels  beneath  me,  gold  enough  to  pay  for  the 
charges  of  the  inns  through  France — that  is  all 
that  John  Law  will  take  away  with  him." 

The  arms  of  the  old  servant  fell  helpless  at  his 
side.  "Sir,  this  is  madness,"  he  expostulated. 

"Not  so,  Henri,"  replied  Law,  leniently.  "Mad 
ness  enough  there  has  been  in  Paris,  it  is  true,  but 
madness  not  mine  nor  of  my  making.  For  madness, 
look  you  yonder." 

He  pointed  a  finger  through  the  window  where 
the  stately  edifice  of  the  Palais  Royal  rose. 

"My  good  friend  the  regent — it  is  he  who  hath 
been  mad,"  continued  Law.  "He,  holding  France 
in  trust,  has  ruined  France  forever." 

"Monsieur,  I  grieve  for  you,"  said  the  Swiss. 
"I  have  seen  your  success  in  these  years  and,  as 
you  may  imagine,  have  understood  something  of  your 
affairs  as  time  went  on." 


432          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

"And  have  you  not  profited  by  your  knowledge 
in  these  times?" 

"I  have  had  the  salary  your  Honor  has  agreed 
to  pay  me,"  replied  the  Swiss. 

"And  no  more?" 

"No  more." 

"Why,  there  are  serving  folk  in  France  by  the 
hundreds  who  have  grown  millionaires  by  the  knowl 
edge  of  their  employers'  affairs  these  last  two  years 
in  Paris.  Never  was  such  a  time  in  all  the  world 
for  making  money.  Have  you  been  more  blind  than 
they?  Why  did  you  not  tell  me?  Why  did  you 
not  ask?" 

"I  was  content  with  your  employment,  Monsieur 
L'as.  I  would  ask  no  better  master." 

"It  is  not  so  with  certain  others.  They  think 
me  a  hard  master  enough,  and  having  displaced  me, 
will  do  all  they  can  to  punish  me.  But  now,  Henri, 
you  will  perhaps  need  to  look  elsewhere  for  a  mas 
ter.  I  am  going  far  away — perhaps  across  the  seas. 
It  may  be — but  I  know  not  where  and  care  not 
where  my  foot  may  wander  hereafter,  nor  will  I  seek 
now  to  plan  for  it.  As  for  you,  Henri,  since  you 
admit  you  have  been  thus  blind  to  your  own  inter 
ests,  let  us  look  to  that.  Go  to  the  desk  again.  Take 
out  the  drawer — that  one  on  the  left  hand.  So — 
bring  it  to  me." 


THAT   WHICH   KEMAINED  433 

The  servant  obeyed.  Law  took  from  his  hand 
the  receptacle,  and  with  a  sweep  of  his  hand  poured 
out  on  the  table  its  contents.  A  mass  of  glitter 
ing  gems,  diamonds,  sapphires,  pearls,  emeralds,  fell 
and  spread  over  the  table  top.  The  light  cast  out 
by  their  thousand  facets  lit  up  the  surroundings 
with  shimmering,  many-colored  gleams.  The  wealth 
of  a  kingdom  might  have  been  here  in  the  careless 
possession  of  this  man,  whose  resources  had  been 
absolutely  without  measure. 

"Help  yourself,  Henri,"  said  Law,  calmly,  and 
turned  about  to  his  employment  among  the  papers. 
A  moment  later  he  turned  again  to  see  his  servant 
still  standing  motionless. 

"Well?"  said  Law. 

"I  do  not  understand,"  said  the  Swiss. 

"Take  what  you  like,"  said  Law.  "I  have  said 
it,  and  I  mean  it.  It  is  for  your  pay,  because  you 
have  been  honest,  because  I  understand  you  as  a 
faithful  man." 

"But,  Monsieur,  these  things  have  very  great 
value,"  said  the  Swiss.  "Let  me  ask  how  is  it 
that  you  yourself  take  so  little  gold  along?  Does 
Monsieur  purpose  to  take  with  him  his  fortune  in 
gems  and  jewels  instead?" 

"By  no  means.  I  purpose  taking  but  fifty  louis, 
as  I  have  said." 


434          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

"Monsieur  would  have  me  replace  the  drawer?" 

"How  do  you  mean?" 

"Why,  I  want  none  of  them." 

"Why?" 

"Because  Monsieur  wants  none  of  them." 

"Fie !    Your  case  is  quite  different  from  mine." 

"Perhaps,  but  I  want  none  of  them." 

"Are  you  afraid?" 

"Monsieur !" 

"Do  you  not  think  them  genuine  stones?" 

"Assuredly,"  said  the  Swiss,  "else  why  should 
we  have  cared  for  them  among  our  gems  ?" 

"Well,  then,  I  command  you  as  your  master,  to 
take  forth  some  of  these  jewels  and  keep  them  for 
your  own." 

"But  no,"  replied  the  Swiss.  "It  is  only  after 
Monsieur." 

"What?    Myself?" 

"Assuredly." 

"Then,  for  the  sake  of  precedent,"  said  Law,  "let 
me  see.  Well,  then,  I  will  take  one  gem,  only  one. 
Here,  Henri,  is  the  diamond  which  I  brought  with 
me  when  I  came  to  Paris  years  ago.  It  was  the 
sole  jewel  owned  then  by  my  brother  and  myself, 
though  we  had  somewhat  of  gold  between  us,  thanks 
to  this  same  diamond.  It  was  once  my  sole  capital, 


THAT   WHICH   EEMAINED  435 

in  years  gone  by.  Perhaps  we  may  need  a  carriage 
through  France,  and  this  may  serve  to  pay  the  hire 
of  a  vehicle  from  one  of  my  late  dukes  or  mar 
quises.  Or  perhaps  at  best  I  may  send  this  same 
stone  across  the  channel  to  my  brother  Will,  who 
has  wisely  gone  to  Scotland,  or  should  have  de 
parted  before  this.  So,  very  well,  Henri,  to  oblige 
you  I  will  take  this  single  stone.  Now,  do  you  help 
yourself.'* 

"Since  Monsieur  limits  himself  to  so  little/'  said 
the  Swiss,  sturdily,  "I  shall  not  want  more.  This 
little  pin  will  serve  me,  and  I  shall  wear  it  long 
in  memory  of  your  many  kindnesses." 

Law  rose  to  his  feet  and  caught  the  good  fellow 
by  the  hand. 

"By  heaven,  I  find  you  of  good  blood!"  said  he. 
"My  friend,  I  thank  you.  And  now  put  up  the 
box.  I  shall  not  counsel  you  to  take  more  than 
this.  We  shall  leave  the  rest  for  those  who  will 
presently  come  to  claim  it." 

For  some  time  silence  reigned  in  the  great  room, 
as  Law,  deeply  engaged  in  the  affairs  before  him, 
buried  himself  in  the  mass  of  scattered  books  and 
papers.  Hour  after  hour  wore  on,  and  at  last  he 
turned  from  his  employment.  His  face  showed  calm, 
pale,  and  furrowed  with  a  sadness  which  till  now 


436           THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

had  been  foreign  to  it.  He  arose  at  last,  and  with 
a  sweep  of  his  arm  pushed  back  the  papers  which 
lay  before  him. 

"There,"  said  he.  "This  should  conclude  it  all. 
It  should  all  be  plain  enough  now  to  those  who  fol 
low." 

"Monsieur  is  weary,"  mentioned  the  faithful  at 
tendant.  "He  would  have-  some  refreshment." 

"Presently,  but  I  think  not  here,  Henri.  My 
household  is  not  all  so  faithful  as  yourself,  and  I 
question  if  we  could  find  cook  or  servants  for  the 
table  below.  No,  we  are  to  leave  Paris  to-night, 
Henri,  and  it  is  well  the  journey  should  begin. 
Get  you  down  to  the  stables,  and,  if  you  can,  have 
my  best  coach  brought  to  the  front  door." 

"It  may  not  be  quite  safe,  if  Monsieur  will  permit 
me  to  suggest." 

"Perhaps  not.  These  fools  are  so  deep  in  their 
folly  that  they  do  not  know  their  friends.  But  safe 
or  not,  that  is  the  way  I  shall  go.  We  might  slip 
out  through  the  back  door,  but  'tis  not  thus  John 
Law  will  go  from  Paris." 

The  servant  departed,  and  Law,  left  alone,  sat 
silent  and  motionless,  buried  in  thought.  Now  and 
again  his  head  sank  forward,  like  that  of  one  who 
has  received  a  deep  hurt.  But  again  he  drew  himself 
up  sternly,  and  so  remained,  not  leaving  his  seat  nor 


THAT    WHICH    EEMAINED  437 

turning  toward  the  window,  beyond  which  could 
now  be  heard  the  sound  of  shouting,  and  cries  whose 
confused  and  threatening  tones  might  have  given 
ground  for  the  gravest  apprehension.  At  length  the 
Swiss  again  reported,  much  agitated  and  shaken 
from  his  ordinary  self-control.. 

"Monsieur,"  said  he,  "come.  I  have  at  last  the 
coach  at  the  door.  Hasten,  Monsieur;  a  crowd  is 
gathering.  Indeed,  we  may  meet  violence." 

Law  seemed  not  to  hear  him,  but  sat  for  a  time, 
his  head  still  bowed,  his  eyes  gazing  straight  before 
him. 

"But,  Monsieur,"  again  broke  in  the  Swiss, 
anxiously,  "if  I  may  interrupt,  there  is  need  to  has 
ten.  There  will  be  a  mob.  Our  guard  is  gone." 

"So,"  said  Law.     "They  were  afraid?" 

"Surely.  They  fled  forthwith  when  they  heard 
the  people  below  crying  out  at  the  house.  They  are 
indeed  threatening  death  to  yourself.  They  cry 
that  they  will  burn  the  house — that  should  you  ap 
pear,  they  will  have  your  blood  at  once." 

"And  are  you  not  afraid  ?"  asked  Law. 

"I  am  here.  Does  not  Monsieur  fear  for  him 
self?" 

Law  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "There  are  many 
of  them,  and  we  are  but  two,"  said  he.  "For  your 
self,  go  you  down  the  back  way  and  care  for  your 


438          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

own  safety.  I  will  go  out  the  front  and  meet  these 
good  people.  Are  we  quite  ready  for  the  journey?" 

"Quite  ready,  as  you  have  directed." 

"Have  you  the  two  valises,  with  the  one  change 
of  clothing?" 

"They  are  here." 

"And  have  you  the  fifty  louis,  as  I  stated?" 

"Here  in  the  purse." 

"And  I  think  you  have  also  the  single  diamond." 

"It  is  here." 

"Then,"  said  Law,  "let  us  go." 

He  rose,  and  scarce  looking  behind  him,  even  to 
see  that  his  orders  to  the  servant  had  been  obeyed, 
he  strode  down  the  vast  stairway  of  the  great  hotel, 
past  many  precious  works  of  art,  between  walls 
hung  with  richest  tapestries  and  noble  paintings. 
The  click  of  his  heel  on  a  chance  bit  of  exposed 
marble  here  and  there  echoed  hollow,  as  though 
indeed  the  master  of  the  palace  had  been  abandoned 
by  all  his  people.  The  great  building  was  silent, 
empty. 

"What !  Are  you,  then,  here  ?"  he  said,  seeing  the 
servant  had  disobeyed  his  instructions  and  was  fol 
lowing  close  behind  him.  He  alone  out  of  those 
scores  of  servants,  those  hundreds  of  fawning  no 
bles,  those  thousands  of  sycophant  souls  who  had 
but  lately  cringed  before  him,  now  accompanied  the 


THAT    WHICH    REMAINED  439 

late  master  of  France  as  he  turned  to  leave  the 
house  in  which  he  no  longer  held  authority. 

Without,  but  the  door's  thickness  from  where 
he  stood,  there  arose  a  tumult  of  sound,  shouts, 
cries,  imprecations,  entreaties,  as  though  the  walls 
of  some  asylum  for  the  unfortunate  had  broken  away 
and  allowed  its  inmates  to  escape  unrestrained,  irre 
claimable,  impossible  to  control. 

"Down  with  Jean  L'as!  Down  with  Jean  L'as!" 
rose  a  cadenced,  rhythmic  shout,  the  accord  of  a  mob 
of  Paris  beating  into  its  tones.  And  this  steady 
burden  was  broken  by  the  cries  of  "Enter!  En 
ter!  Break  down  the  door!  Kill  the  monster! 
Assassin!  Thief!  Traitor !"  No  word  of  the  vo 
cabulary  of  scorn  and  loathing  was  wanting  in  their 
cries. 

Hearing  these  ories,  the  face  of  this  fighting  man 
now  grew  hot  with  anger,  and  now  it  paled  with 
grief  and  sorrow.  Yet  he  faltered  not,  but  stepped 
on,  confidently.  The  Swiss  opened  the  door  and 
stood  at  the  head  of  the  flight  of  stairs.  Tall,  calm, 
pale,  fearless,  John  Law  stood  facing  the  angry  mob, 
his  eyes  shining  brightly.  He  laid  his  hand  for 
an  instant  upon  his  sword,  yet  it  was  but  to  un 
buckle  the  belt.  The  weapon  he  left  leaning  against 
the  wall,  and  so  stepped  on  down  toward  the  crowd. 

He  was  met  by  a  rush  of  excited  men  and  women, 


440          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

screaming,  cursing,  giving  vent  to  inarticulate  and 
indistinguishable  speech.  A  man  laid  his  hand  upon 
his  shoulder.  Law  caught  the  hand,  and  with  a 
swift  wrench  of  the  wrist,  threw  the  owner  of  it 
to  the  ground.  At  this  the  others  gave  back,  and 
for  half  a  moment  silence  ensued.  The  mob  lacked 
just  the  touch  of  rage  to  hurl  themselves  upon 
him.  He  raised  his  hand  and  motioned  them 
aside. 

"Are  you  not  Jean  L'as?"  cried  one  dame,  ex 
citedly,  waving  in  his  face  a  handful  of  the  paper 
shares  of  the  latest  issue  in  the  Company  of  the 
Indies.  "Are  you  not  Jean  L'as?  Tell  me,  then, 
where  is  my  money  for  these  things?  What  shall 
I  get  for  this  rotten  paper?" 

"You  are  Jean  L'as,  the  director-general !"  cried 
a  man,  pushing  up  to  his  side.  "'Twas  you  that 
ruined  the  Company.  See!  Here  is  all  that  I 
have!"  He  wept  as  he  shook  his  bunch  of  paper 
Iii  John  Law's  face.  "Last  week  I  was  worth  half 
a  million!"  He  wept,  and  tore  across,  with  impo 
tent  rage,  the  bundle  of  worthless  paper. 

"Down  with  Jean  L'as !  Down  with  Jean  L'as !" 
came  the  recurrent  cry.  A  rush  followed.  The  car 
riage,  towering  above  the  ring  of  the  surrounding 
crowd,  showed  its  coat  of  arms,  and  thus  was  recog 
nized.  A  paving-stone  crashed  through  its  heavy 


THAT    WHICH    REMAINED  441 

window.  A  knife  ripped  up  the  velvets  of  the 
cushions. 

The  coachman  was  pulled  from  his  box.  The 
horses,  plunging  with  terror,  were  cut  loose  from  the 
pole  and  led  away.  With  shouts  and  cries  of  rage 
and  busy  zeal,  one  madman  vied  with  another  in 
tearing,  cutting  and  destroying  the  vehicle,  until 
it  stood  there  ruined,  without  means  of  locomotion, 
defaced  and  useless.  And  still  the  ring  of  desperate 
humanity  closed  around  him  who  had  late  been  mas 
ter  of  all  France. 

"What  do  you  want,  my  friends?"  asked  he, 
calmly,  as  for  an  instant  there  came  a  lull  in  the 
tumult.  He  stood  looking  at  them  curiously  now, 
his  dulling  eyes  regarding  them  as  though  they  pre 
sented  some  new  and  interesting  study.  "What  is  it 
that  you  desire?"  he  repeated. 

"We  want  our  money,"  cried  a  score  of  voices. 
"We  want  back  that  which  you  have  stolen." 

"You  are  not  exact,"  replied  Law,  calmly.  "I 
have  not  your  money,  nor  yet  have  I  stolen  it.  If 
you  have  suffered  by  this  foolish  panic,  you  do 
not  mend  matters  by  thus  treating  me.  By  heaven, 
you  go  the  wrong  way  to  get  anything  from  me! 
Out  of  the  way,  you  canaille!  Do  you  think  to 
frighten  me?  I  made  your  city.  I  made  you  all. 
Now,  do  you  think  to  frighten  me,  John.  Law?" 


442          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

"Oh!  You  would  go  away,  you  want  to  escape!" 
cried  the  voices  of  those  near  at  hand.  "We  will 
see  as  to  that !" 

Again  they  fell  upon  the  carriage,  and  still  they 
hemmed  him  in  the  closer. 

"True,  I  am  going  away,"  said  Law.  "But  you 
can  not  say  that  I  tried  to  steal  away  without 
your  knowing  it.  There,  up  the  stairs,  are  my 
papers.  You  will  see  in  time  that  I  have  concealed 
nothing.  Now  I  am  going  to  leave  Paris,  it  is  true ; 
but  not  because  I  am  afraid  to  stay  here.  'Tis 
for  other  reason,  and  reason  of  mine  own." 

"'Twas  you  who  ruined  Paris — this  city  which 
you  now  seek  to  leave !"  shrieked  the  dame  who  had 
spoken  before,  still  shaking  her  useless  bank-notes 
in  her  hand. 

"Oh,  very  well,  my  friend.  For  the  argument, 
let  us  agree  upon  that,"  said  Law. 

"You  ruined  our  Company,  our  beautiful  Com 
pany  !"  cried  another. 

"Certainly.  Since  I  was  the  originator  of  it,  that 
follows  as  matter  of  reason,"  replied  Law. 

"Ah,  he  admits  it!  He  admits  it!"  cried  yet 
another.  "Don't  let  him  escape.  Kill  him !  Down 
with  Jean  L'as !" 

"We  are  going  to  kill  you  precisely  here!"  cried 


THAT    WHICH    REMAINED  443 

a  huge  fellow,  brandishing  a  paving-stone  before 
his  eyes.  "You  are  not  fit  to  live." 

"As  to  that,"  said  Law,  "I  agree  with  you  per 
fectly.  My  hand  upon  it;  I  am  not  fit  to  live.  I 
have  found  that  I  made  mistakes.  I  have  found 
that  there  is  nothing  left  to  desire.  I  have  found 
out  that  all  this  money  is  not  worth  the  having. 
I  have  found  out  so  many  things,  my  very  dear 
friends,  that  I  quite  agree  with  you.  For  if  one 
must  want  to  live  before  he  is  fit  to  live,  then  indeed 
I  am  not  fit.  But  what  then?" 

"Kill  him !  Kill  him !  Strike  him  down !"  cried 
out  a  voice  back  of  the  giant  with  the  menacing 
paving-stone. 

"Oh,  very  well,  my  friends,"  resumed  the  object 
of  their  fury,  flicking  again  with  his  old,  careless 
gesture  at  the  deep  cuff  of  his  wrist.  "As  you  like 
in  regard  to  that.  More  than  one  man  has  offered 
me  that  happiness  in  the  past,  yet  it  was  many  a  long 
year  since  any  man  could  trouble  me  by  announcing 
that  he  was  about  to  kill  me." 

Something  in  the  attitude  of  the  man  stayed  the 
hands  of  the  most  dangerous  members  of  the  mob. 
Yet  ever  there  came  the  cry  from  back  of  them. 
"Down  with  Jean  L'as!  He  has  mined  every 
thing  1" 


444          THE    MISSISSIPPI    BUBBLE 

"Friends,"  responded  Law  to  this  cry,  bitterly, 
"you  little  know  how  true  you  speak.  It  was  in 
deed  John  Law  who  brought  ruin  to  everything. 
It  was  indeed  he  who  threw  away  what  was  worth 
more  than  all  the  gold  in  France.  It  is  indeed  he 
who  has  failed,  and  failed  most  utterly.  You  can 
not  frighten  John  Law,  but  you  may  do  as  you  like 
with  him,  for  surely  he  has  failed!" 

The  bitterness  of  despair  was  in  his  tones.  Then, 
perhaps,  the  sullen,  savage  crowd  had  wrought  their 
last  act  of  anger  and  revenge  on  him,  had  it  not 
been  for  a  sudden  change  in  that  tide  of  ill  fortune 
that  now  seemed  to  carry  him  forward  to  his  doom. 
There  came  a  sound  of  far-off  cries,  a  distant  clack 
ing  of  hoofs,  the  clatter  of  steel,  many  shouts,  en 
treaties  and  commands.  The  close-packed  crowd 
which  filled  the  open  space  in  front  of  the  hotel 
writhed,  twisted,  turned  and  would  have  sought  to 
resolve  itself  into  groups  and  individuals.  Some 
cried  out  that  the  troops  were  coming.  A  detach 
ment  of  the  king's  household,  sent  out  to  disperse 
these  dangerous  gatherings,  came  full  front  down 
the  street,  as  had  so  often  come  the  arm  of  the 
military  in  this  turbulent  old  city  of  Paris.  Ee- 
morselessly  they  rode  over  and  through  the  mob, 
driving  them,  dispersing  them.  A  moment  later, 


THAT    WHICH   REMAINED  445 

and  Law  stood  almost  alone  at  the  steps  of  his  own 
house.  The  squadron  wheeled,  headed  by  an  officer, 
who  rode  upon  him  with  sword  uplifted  as  though 
to  cut  him  down.  Law  raised  his  hand  at  this  new 
menace. 

"Stop !"  he  cried.  "I  am  the  cause  of  this  riot 
ing.  I  am  John  Law." 

"What!  Monsieur  L'as?"  cried  the  lieutenant. 
"So  the  people  have  found  you,  have  they  ?" 

"It  would  so  seem.  They  have  destroyed  my  car 
riage,  and  they  would  have  killed  me,"  replied  Law. 
"But  I  perceive  it  is  Captain  Mirabec.  'Twas  I  who 
got  you  your  commission,  as  you  may  remember." 

"Is  it  so  ?"  replied  the  other,  with  a  grin.  "I  have 
no  recollection;  Since  you  are  Jean  L'as,  the  late 
director-general,  the  pity  is  I  did  not  let  the  people 
kill  you.  You  are  the  cause  of  the  ruin  of  us  all, 
the  cause  of  my  own  ruin.  Three  days  more,  and 
I  had  been  a  major-general.  I  had  nearly  the  sum 
in  actions  ready  to  pay  over  at  the  right  place. 
By  our  Lady  of  Grace,  I  am  minded  to  run  you 
through  myself,  for  a  greater  villain  never  set  foot 
in  France!" 

"Monsieur,  I  am  about  to  leave  France,"  said 
Law. 

"Oh,  you  would  leave  us  ?    You  would  run  away  ?" 


446          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

"As  you  like.  But  most  of  all,  I  am  now  very 
weary.  I  would  not  remain  here  longer  talking. 
Henri,  where  are  you?" 

The  faithful  Swiss,  who  had  remained  close  to 
his  employer  all  the  time,  and  who  had  been  not 
far  from  his  side  during  the  scenes  just  concluded, 
was  in  a  moment  at  his  side.  He  hardly  reached 
his  master  too  soon,  for  as  he  passed  his  arm  about 
him,  the  head  of  Law  sank  wearily  forward.  He 
might,  perhaps,  have  sunk  to  the  ground  had  he 
lacked  a  supporting  arm. 

At  this  moment  there  came  again  the  sound  of 
hoofs  upon  the  pavement.  There  was  the  rush  of 
a  mounted  outrider,  and  hard  after  him  sped  the 
horses  of  a  carriage,  whose  driver  pulled  up  close 
at  the  curb  and  scarce  clear  of  the  little  group 
gathered  there.  The  door  of  the  coach  was  opened, 
and  at  it  appeared  the  figure  of  a  woman,  who 
quickly  descended  from  the  step. 

"What  is  it?"  she  cried.  "Is  not  this  the  resi 
dence  of  Monsieur  Law?"  The  officer  saluted,  and 
the  few  loiterers  gave  back  and  made  room,  as  she 
stepped  fully  into  the  street  and  advanced  with 
decision  towards  those  whom  she  saw. 

"Madam,"  replied  the  Swiss,  "this  is  the  resi 
dence  of  Monsieur  L'as,  and  this  is  Monsieur  L'as 
himself.  I  fear  he  is  taken  suddenly  ill." 


THAT   WHICH   EEMAINED  447 

The  lady  stepped  quickly  to  his  side.  As  she 
did  so,  Law,  as  one  not  fully  hearing,  half  raised  his 
head.  He  looked  full  into  her  face,  and  releasing 
himself  from  the  arms  of  his  servant,  stood  thus, 
staring  directly  at  the  visitor,  his  face  haggard,  his 
fixed  eyes  hearing  no  sign  of  actual  recognition. 

"Catharine !  Catharine !"  he  exclaimed.  "Oh  God, 
how  cruel  of  you  too  to  mock  me!  Catharine!" 

The  unspeakable  yearning  of  the  cry  went  to  the 
heart  of  her  who  heard  it.  She  put  out  a  hand 
and  laid  it  on  his  forehead.  The  Swiss  motioned 
toward  the  house.  And  even  as  the  officer  wheeled 
his  troop  to  depart,  these  two  again  ascended  the 
steps,  half  carrying  between  them  a  stumbling  man, 
who  but  repeated  mumblingly  to  himself  the  same 
words : 

"Mockery !    Mockery  I" 


'CHAPTER  XIII 

THE   QUALITY   OF  MERCY 

Within  the  great  house  there  was  silence,  for  the 
vistas  of  the  wide  interior  led  far  back  from  the 
street  and  its  tumult;  nor  did  there  arise  within 
the  walls  any  sound  of  voice  or  footfall.  Of  the 
entire  household  there  was  but  one  left  to  do  the 
master  service. 

They  entered  the  great  hall,  passed  the  foot  of  the 
wide  stairway,  and  turned  at  the  first  entresol,  where 
were  seats  and  couches.  The  servant  paused  for  a 
moment  and  looked  inquiringly  at  the  lady  with 
whom  he  now  found  himself  in  company. 

"The  times  are  serious,"  he  began.  "I  would  not 
intrude,  Madame,  yet  perhaps  you  are  aware — " 

"I  am  a  friend  of  monsieur,"  replied  Lady  Catha 
rine.  "He  is  ill.  See,  he  is  not  himself.  Tell 
me,  what  is  this  illness?" 

"Madame,"  said  the  Swiss,  gravely,  "his  illness 
is  that  of  grief.  Monsieur's  failure  sits  heavily 
upon  him." 

(448) 


THE    QUALITY    OF    MERCY          449 

"How  long  is  it  since  he  slept?"  asked  the  lady, 
for  she  noted  the  drooping  head  of  the  man  now 
reclining  upon  the  couch. 

"Not  for  many  days  and  nights,"  replied  the 
Swiss.  "He  has  for  the  last  few  days  been  under 
much  strain.  But  shall  I  not  assist  you,  Madame? 
You  are,  perhaps — pardon  me,  since  I  do  not  know 
your  relationship  with  monsieur — " 

"A  friend  of  years  ago.  I  knew  Mr.  Law  when 
he  lived  in  England." 

"I  perceive.  Perhaps  Madame  would  be  alone 
for  a  time  ?  If  you  please,  I  will  seek  aid." 

They  approached  the  side  of  the  couch.  Law's 
head  lay  back  upon  the  cushions.  His  breath  came 
deeply  and  slowly,  not  stertorously  nor  labored. 

"How  strange,"  whispered  the  Swiss,  "he  sleeps !" 

Such  was  indeed  the  truth.  The  iron  nature,  so 
long  overwrought,  now  utterly  unstrung,  had  yielded 
for  the  first  time  to  the  stress  of  nature  and  of 
events.  The  relief  from  what  he  had  taken  to  be 
death  had  come  swiftly,  and  the  reaction  brought 
a  lethal  calm  of  its  own.  If  he  had  indeed  recog 
nized  the  face  of  the  woman  who  had  touched  him 
with  her  hand,  it  was  as  though  he  had  witnessed 
her  in  a  vision,  a  dream  bitter  and  troubled,  since 
it  was  a  dream  impossible  to  be  true. 

The   Swiss  looked  still  hesitatingly  at  the  lady 


450          THE   MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

who  had  thus  strangely  come  upon  the  scene,  notic 
ing  her  sweet  and  tender  mouth,  her  cheeks  just 
faintly  tinged  with  pink,  her  eyes  shining  with  a 
soft,  mysterious  radiance.  She  approached  the 
couch  and  laid  hoth  her  hands  upon  the  face  of 
the  unconscious  man.  Tears  sprang  within  her  eyes 
and  fell  from  her  dark  lashes.  The  old  servant 
looked  up  at  her,  simply. 

"Madame  would  he  alone  with  monsieur?"  asked 
he.  "It  will  be  better." 

Lady  Catharine  Knollys,  left  alone,  gazed  upon 
the  sleeper.  John  Law,  the  failure,  lay  there,  su 
pine,  abased,  cast-down,  undone,  shorn  utterly  of 
his  old  arrogance  of  mind  and  mien.  Fortune, 
wealth,  even  the  boon  of  physical  well-being — all 
had  fled  from  him.  The  pride  of  a  superb  man 
hood  had  departed  from  the  lines  of  this  limp  fig 
ure.  The  cheeks  were  lined  and  sunken,  the  eye, 
even  had  the  lid  not  covered  it,  lacked  the  late 
convincing  fire.  No  longer  commanding,  no  longer 
strong,  no  longer  gay  and  debonair,  he  lay,  a  man 
whose  fate  was  failure,  as  he  himself  had  said. 

The  woman  who  stood  with  clasped  hands,  gazing 
at  him,  tears  welling  in  her  eyes — she,  so  closely 
linked  to  his  every  thought  for  these  many  years — 
well  enough  she  knew  the  story  of  his  boundless 
ambitions,  now  so  swiftly  ended.  Well  enough,  too, 


THE    QUALITY    OF   MERCY          451 

she  knew  the  shortcomings  of  this  mortal  man  before 
her.  Even  as  she  had  in  her  mirror  looked  into 
her  own  soul,  so  now  she  saw  deep  into  his  heart 
as  he  lay  there,  helpless,  making  no  further  plea 
for  himself,  urging  no  claim,  making  no  explana 
tions  nor  denials,  no  asseverations,  no  promises. 
Did  she  indeed  see  and  recognize  again,  as  sometimes 
gloriously  happens  in  this  poor  life  of  ours,  that 
other  and  inner  man,  the  only  one  fit  to  touch  a 
woman's  hand — the  man  who  might  have  been? 
Did  she  see  this,  and  greet  again  the  friend  of 
long  ago?  God,  who  hath  given  mercy,  remedy 
alone  sufficing  for  the  ill  that  men  may  do,  He 
alone  may  know  these  things. 

Could  John  Law  failing  be  John  Law  succeeding, 
and  in  his  most  sublime  success?  Upon  the  wreck 
and  ruin  of  the  old  nature  could  there  grow  another 
and  a  better  man?  Mayhap  the  answer  to  this  was 
what  the  eye  of  woman  saw.  How  else  could  there 
have  come  into  this  great  room,  so  late  the  scene 
of  turbulent  activities,  this  vast  and  soothing  calm? 
How  else  could  this  man's  breath  come  now  so  deep 
and  regular  and  content?  The  angels  of  God  may 
know,  they  who  drop  down  the  gentle  dew  of  heaven. 

An  hour  passed  by.  A  soft  tread  came  to  the 
door,  but  Henri  heard  no  sound,  and  saw  only  the 
prone  figure  of  the  sleeper,  and  beside  it  the  form 


452          THE    MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE 

of  the  woman,  who  still  held  his  hand  in  her  own. 
Still  the  hours  wore  on,  and  still  the  watch  con 
tinued.,  there  under  the  mysteries  of  Life  and  of 
Love,  of  Mercy  and  of  Forgiveness.  And  so  at  last 
the  gray  dawn  broke  again.  The  panes  of  the  high 
mullioned  windows  were  tinged  with  splashes  of 
color.  The  pale  light  crept  into  the  room,  slowly 
revealing  and  lighting  up  its  splendors. 

With  the  dawn  there  came  into  the  heart  of 
Catharine  Knollys  a  flood  of  light  and  joy.  Why, 
she  knew  not ;  how,  she  cared  not ;  yet  she  knew  that 
the  shadows  were  gone.  The  same  tide  of  peace 
and  calm  might  have  swept  into  the  bosom  of  the 
man  before  her.  He  stirred,  moved.  His  eyes 
opened  wide,  in  their  gaze  wonder  and  disbelief,  yet 
hope  and  longing. 

"Catharine,"  he  murmured,  "Catharine!  Is  it 
you?  Catharine!  Dear  Kate!" 

She  bent  over  and  softly  kissed  his  face.  "Dear 
heart,"  she  whispered,  "I  have  loved  you  always. 
Awake.  The  day  has  come.  There  is  another 
world  before  us.  See,  I  have  come  to  you,  dear 
heart,  for  Faith,  and  for  Love,  and  for  Hope !" 

THE    END 


A  LIST  OF  RECENT  FICTION  OF 
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A  NEW  NOTE    IN  FICTION. 

THE  STROLLERS 

By  FREDERIC  S.  ISHAM 


"The  Strollers'*  is  a  novel  of  much  merit. 

The  scenes  are  laid  in  that  picturesque  and  interesting 
period  of  American  life— the  last  of  the  stage-coach  days— 
the  days  of  the  strolling  player. 

The  author,  Frederic  S.  Isham,  gives  a  delightful  and 
accurate  account  of  a  troop  of  players  making  a  circuit  in 
the  wilderness  from  New  York  to  New  Orleans,  travelling  by 
stage,  carrying  one  wagon  load  of  scenery,  playing  in  town 
halls,  taverns,  barns  or  whatnot. 

"  The  Strollers  "  is  a  new  note  in  fiction. 

With  eight  illustrations  by  Harrison  Fisher 
i2mo.       Price,  $1.50. 


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AN     INTERESTING     STORY     OF 
FAMILY    LIFE. 


THE 
FIGHTING  BISHOP 

By  HERBERT  M.  HOPKINS 


"The  Fighting  Bishop"  is  drawn  with  firm,  bold  strokes 
and  with  a  sufficiently  scholarly  atmosphere  to  make  the 
picture  life  like.  There  is  wisdom  too,  in  the  attitude  of  the 
author  toward  his  characters  ;  and  the  entire  atmosphere  of 
the  book  is  of  fine  quality.  The  general  accuracy  and 
vividness  of  the  portraiture  are  likely  to  impress  everyone. 
*  *  *  It  contains  passages  and  characterizations  that 
some  readers  will  find  it  difficult  to  forget.—  The  Hartford 
Caurant. 

The  bishop's  musical  son,  Stephen's,  obstinate  vanity, 
bis  irritable  nervous  nature,  his  impatience  of  advice  and  his 
wonderful  confidence  in  his  own  genius  are  admirably 
brought  out  in  the  course  of  the  narrative  and  the 
chapter  containing  his  letters  to  his  brother  is  one  of  the 
best  in  the  book.  It  shows  his  character  humorously  and 
without  exaggeration,  and  this  is  typical  of  the  whole  story. 
The  author  sees  his  personages  with  a  human  sympathic 
eye.— New  York  Sun. 


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is  fresh  and  spontaneous,  having  nothing  of 
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associated    with    the    term 
"  historical  novel." 


HEARTS 
COURAGEOUS 

By  HALLIE  ERMINIE  RIVES 


"  Hearts  Courageous  "  is  made  of  new  material,  a  pic 
turesque  yet  delicate  style,  good  plot  and  very  dramatic 
situations.  The  best  in  the  book  are  the  defence  of  George 
Washington  by  the  Marquis  ;  the  duel  between  the  English 
officer  and  the  Marquis ;  and  Patrick  Henry  flinging  the 
brand  of  war  into  the  assembly  of  the  burgesses  of  Virginia. 
Williamsburg,  Virginia,  the  country  round  about,  and 
the  life  led  in  that  locality  just  before  the  Revolution,  form 
an  attractive  setting  for  the  action  of  the  story. 

With  six  illustrations  by  A.  B.  Wenzell 
izmo.     Price,  $1.50 


The  Bowen-Merrill  Company,  Indianapolis 


A  VIVID  WESTERN  STORY  OF  LOVE 
AND  POLITICS 


THE  1 3™  DISTRICT 

By  BRAND  WHITLOCK 


This  is  a  story  of  high  order.  By  its  scope  and  strength 
it  deserves  to  be  spoken  of  as  a  novel — and  that  word  has 
been  very  much  abused  by  hanging  it  to  any  old  thing.  It 
is  a  wonderfully  good  and  interesting  account  of  the  workings 
of  politics  from  before  the  primaries  on  through  election, 
with  a  splendid  love  story  also  woven  into  it. 

One  would  think  for  instance,  that  it  would  be  impossible 
to  give  an  account  of  a  "primary  "  and  keep  it  interesting; 
it  is  natural  to  suppose  a  writer  would  become  entangled  with 
the  dull  routine  of  it  all,  but  he  does  not,  he  makes  it  inter 
esting.  He  shows  the  tricks,  the  heat,  the  passion,  the 
tumult ;  the  weariness  and  stubborness  of  a  dead  lock.  The 
descriptions  of  society  life  in  the  book  are  equally  good. 

i2mo.       Price,  $1.50 


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''NOTHING   BUT    PRAISE" 

LAZARRE 

By  MARY  HARTWELL  CATHERWOOD 


Glorified  by  a  beautiful  love  story. — Chicago  Tribune. 

We  feel  quite  justified  in  predicting  a  wide-spread  and 
prolonged  popularity  for  this  latest  comer  into  the  ranks  of 
historical  fiction. —  The  N.  Y.  Commercial  Advertiser. 

After  all  the  material  for  the  story  had  been  collected  a 
year  was  required  for  the  writing  of  it.  It  is  an  historical 
romance  of  the  better  sort,  with  stirring  situations,  good  bits 
of  character  drawing  and  a  satisfactory  knowledge  of  the 
tone  and  atmosphere  of  the  period  involved. — N.  Y.  Herald. 

Lazarre,  is  no  less  a  person  than  the  Dauphin,  Louis 
XVII.  of  France,  and  a  right  royal  hero  he  makes.  A  prince 
who,  for  the  sake  of  his  lady,  scorns  perils  in  two  hemis 
pheres,  facing  the  wrath  of  kings  in  Europe  and  the  bullets 
of  savages  in  America;  who  at  the  last  spurns  a  kingdom  that 
he  may  wed  her  freely— here  is  one  to  redeem  the  sins  of  even 
those  who  "never  learn  and  never  iorget."— Philadelphia 
North  A  merican. 

With  six  Illustrations  by  Andr£  Castaigne 
12  mo.       Price,  $1.50. 


The  Bowen-Merrill  Company,  Indianapolis 


A  VIVACIOUS  ROMANCE  OF  REVOLU 
TIONARY  DAYS 


ALICE  o/OLD 

VINCENNES 

By  MAURICE  THOMPSON 


The  Atlanta  Constitution  says  : 

"  Mr.  Thompson,  whose  delightful  writings  in  prose  and 
verse  have  made  his  reputation  national,  has  achieved  his 
master  stroke  of  genius  in  this  historical  novel  of  revolu 
tionary  days  in  the  West." 

The  Denver  Daily  Newt  says  ' 

"  There  are  three  great  chapters  of  fiction  t  Scott's  tourna 
ment  on  Ashby  field,  General  Wallace's  chariot  race,  and 
now  Maurice  Thompson's  duel  scene  and  the  raising  of 
Alice's  flag  over  old  Fort  Vmcennes." 

The  Chicago  Times-Herald  says  ' 

tl  More  original  than  'Richard  Carvel,'  more  cohesive  than 
'To  Have  and  To  Hold,'  more  vital  than  'Janice  Mere 
dith,'  such  is  Maurice  Thompson's  superb  American  ro 
mance,  'Alice  of  Old  Vincennes.'  It  is,  in  addition, 
more  artistic  and  spontaneous  than  any  of  its  rivals." 

VIRGINIA  HARNED  EDITION 

i2mo.,  with  six  illustrations  drawn  by  F.  C. 

Yohn   and    a  frontispiece   in  color  by 

Howard  Chandler  Christy 

Price,  $1.50 

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A    STORY  BY  THE   "MARCH    KING" 

THE 
FIFTH  STRING 

By  JOHN  PHILIP  SOUSA 

The  "  March  King"  has  written  much  in  a  musical  way, 
but  "  The  Fifth  String  "  is  his  first  published  story.  In  the 
choice  of  his  subject,  as  the  title  indicates,  Mr.  Sousa  has 
remained  faithful  to  his  art;  and  the  great  public,  that  has 
learned  to  love  him  for  the  marches  he  has  made,  will  be  as 
delighted  with  his  pen  as  with  his  baton. 

"The  Fifth  String"  has  a  strong  and  clearly  defined 
plot  which  shows  in  its  treatment  the  author's  artistically 
sensitive  temperament  and  his  tremendous  dramatic  power. 
It  is  a  story  of  a  marvelous  violin,  of  a  wonderful  love  and  of 
a  strange  temptation. 

A  cover,  especially  designed,  and  six  full-page  illustra 
tions  by  Howard  Chandler  Christy,  serve  to  give  the  dis 
tinguishing  decorative  embellishments  that  this  first  book  by 
Mr.  Sousa  so  richly  deserves. 

With  Pictures  by  Howard  Chandler  Christy 
12  mo.     Price,  $1.25 

The  Bowen-Merrill  Company,  Indianapolis 


"A  NOVEL  THAT'S  WORTH  WHILE" 

The  REDEMPTION 
of  DAVID  CORSON 

By  CHARLES  FREDERIC  GOSS 


A  Mid-century  American  Novel 
of  Intense  Power  and  Interest 


The  Interior  says  : 

"  This  is  a  book  that  is  worth  while.  Though  it  tells  of 
weakness  and  wickedness,  of  love  and  license,  of  revenge 
and  remorse  in  an  intensely  interesting  way,  yet  it  is  above 
all  else  a  clean  and  pure  story.  No  one  can  read  it  and 
honestly  ask  'what's  the  use.'  " 

Newell  Dvvigbt  Hillis,  Pastor  of  Plymouth  Church,  Brooklyn, 
says :  ~ 

"  '  The  Redemption  of  David  Corson'  strikes  a  strong,  healthy, 
buoyant  note." 

Dr.  F.  W.  Gunsaulus,  President  Armour  Institute,  says  : 
"Mr.  Goss  writes  with  the  truthfulness  of  light.  He  has 
told  a  story  in  which  the  fact  of  sin  is  illuminated  with  the 
utmost  truthfulness  and  the  fact  of  redemption  is  portrayed 
with  extraordinary  power.  There  are  lines  of  greatness  in 
the  book  which  I  shall  never  forget." 

President  M.  W.  Stryker,  Hamilton  College,  says  : 

"  It  is  a  victory  in  writing  for  one  whose  head  seems  at  last 

to  have  matched  his  big  human  heart.    There  is  ten  times 

as  much  of  reality  in  it  as  there  is  in  '  David  Harum,'  which 

does  not  value  lightly  that  admirable  charcoal  sketch." 

Price,  $1.50 


THe  Bowen-Merrill  Company,  Indianapolis 


"THE  MERRIEST  NOVEL  OF  MANY, 
MANY  MOONS." 


MY  LADY  PEGGY 
GOES  TO  TOWN 

By  FRANCES  AYMAR  MATHEWS 

The  Daintiest  and    Most  Delightful  Book 
of  the  Season. 

A  heroine  almost  too  charming  to  be  true  is  Peggy,  and 
it  were  a  churlish  reader  who  is  not.  at  the  end  of  the  first 
chapter,  prostrate  betore  her  red  slippers.—  Washington  Post. 

To  make  a  comparison  would  be  to  rank  "My  Lady 
Peggy"  with  "Monsieur  Beaucaire"  in  points  of  attraction, 
and  to  applaud  as  heartily  as  that  delicate  romance,  this 
picture  of  the  days  "  When  patches  nestled  o'er  sweet  lips 
at  chocolate  times."— .W.  Y.  Mail  and  Express. 

12  mo.     Beautifully  illustrated  and  bound. 
Price,  $1.25  net 

The  Bowen-Merrill  Company,  Indianapolis 


"AS  CRISP  AND  CLEAN  CUT 
AS    A    NEW    MINTAGE." 


THE 
PUPPET    CROWN 

BY  HAROLD  MxcGRATH 


A  princess  rarely  beautiful;  a  duchess  magnificent  and 
heartless;  a  villain  revengeful  and  courageous;  a  hero  youth 
ful,  humorous,  fearless  and  truly  American;— such  are  the 
principal  characters  of  this  delightful  story. — Syracuse  Post- 
Standard. 

Harold  MacGrath  has  attained  the  highest  point  achiev 
able  in  recent  fiction.  We  have  the  climax  of  romance  and 
adventure  in  "The  Puppet  Crown."  —  The  Philadelphia. 
North  A  tnerican. 

Superior  to  most  of  the  great  successes. — St.  Paul  Pioneer 
Press. 

"The  Puppet  Crown"  is  a  profusion  of  cleverness. — Bal 
timore  A  merican. 

Challenges  comparison  with  authors  whose  names  have 
become  immortal — Chicago  American. 

Latest  entry  in  the  list  of  winners.— Cleveland  World. 

With  illustrations  by  R.  Martine  Reay 
i2mo.     Price,  $1.50. 


The  Bowen-Merrill  Company,  Indianapolis 


"  AN    ADMIRABLE    SOCIAL  STUDY  " 

THE  FALL  OF 
THE  CURTAIN 

By  HAROLD   BEGBIE 


The  purpose  of  this  brilliant  story  of  modern  English 
life  is  to  show  that  a  human  being,  well  brought-up, 
carefully  trained  in  the  outward  observances  of  religion, 
with  a  keen  intellectual  perception  of  the  difference 
between  right  and  wrong,  may  still  not  have  goodness, 
and  that  ambition  may  easily  become  the  dominating 
force  in  such  a  character.  So  the  book  may  be  called  a 
purpose  novel,  but  in  reading  it,  one  no  more  thinks  of 
applying  so  discredited  an  epithet  to  it  than  one  would 
think  of  applying  it  to  "Vanity  Fair." 

The  author  possesses  an  admirable  style,  clear, 
unaffected,  strong.  To  the  discriminating  public,  -the 
book  is  certain  to  give  far  more  pleasure  than  that  public 
usually  gets  from  a  new  novel. 

With  a  Frontispiece  by  C.  Allan  Gilbert 

Cloth,    12    mo.       Ornamental,    $1.25    Net. 
Postage,  12  Cents 


The  Bowen-Merrill  Company,  Indianapolis 


FULL  of  INCIDENT,  ACTION  fcf  COLOR 

LIKE 
ANOTHER  HELEN 

By  GEORGE  HORTON 


Mr.  Morton's  powerful  romance  stands  in  a  new  field  and 
brings  an  almost  unknown  world  in  reality  before  the  reader  — 
the  world  of  conflict  between  Greek  and  Turk. 

The  island  of  Crete  seems  real  and  genuine  after  reading 
this  book;  not  a  mere  spot  on  the  map.  The  tragic  and 
pathetic  troubles  of  this  people  are  told  with  sympathetic  force. 

Mr.  Horton  employs  a  vivid  style  that  keeps  the  interest 
alive  and  many  passages  are  rilled  with  delicate  poetic  feeling. 

Things  happen  and  the  story  moves.  The  characters  are 
well  conceived  and  are  human  and  convincing.  Beyond  ques 
tion  Mr.  Horton's  fine  story  is  destined  to  take  high  rank  among 
the  books  of  the  day. 

With  illustrations  by  C.  M.  Relyea 

I  zrno,  Cloth  bound 

Price,  $1.50 

The  Chicago  Times-Herald  says  : 

"  Here  are  chapters  that  are  Stephen  Crane  plus  sympathy; 
chapters  of  illuminated  description  fragrant  with  the  at 
mosphere  of  art. ' ' 


The  Bowen- Merrill  Company,  Indianapolis 


"A  CHRONICLE  OF  MARVELS" 

THE  FIRST  MEN 
IN  THE  MOON 

By  H.  G.  WELLS 

Author  of  "The  War  of  the  Worlds"  and  "Tales  of  Time 
and  Space." 


Mr.  Wells  writes  to  entertain  and  in  this  tale  of  the 
invention  of  "  cavorite,"  and  the  subsequent  remarkable 
journey  made  to  the  moon  by  its  inventor,  he  has  succeeded 
beyond  measure  in  alternately  astounding,  convincing  and 
delighting  his  readers.  Told  in  a  straightforward  way,  with 
an  air  of  ingenuousness  that  disarms  doubt,  the  story 
chronicles  most  marvelous  discoveries  and  adventures  on 
the  mysterious  planet.  Mr.  Bering's  many  illustrations 
are  admirable.  Altogether  the  book  is  one  of  the  most 
original  and  entertaining  volumes  that  has  appeared  in 
many  a  day. 

Profusely  Illustrated  by  E.  Hering 
i2mo.,   cloth,  $1.50 


The  Bowen-Merrill  Company,  Indianapolis 


"AN  INDIANA  LOVE  STORY' 

ROSALYNDE'S 
LOVERS 

By  MAURICE  THOMPSON 
Author  of  "Alice  of  Old  Vincennes" 


As  Mr.  Thompson  avers,  this  is  "only  a  love  story," 
but  it  is  a  story  of  such  sweetness  and  wholesome  life 
that  it  will  at  once  claim  a  permanent  home  in  our  affections. 
The  love  of  nature,  so  prominent  a  characteristic  of  Mr. 
Thompson,  is  reflected  throughout  and  the  thunderstorm 
and  following  gleam  of  sun,  the  country  garden  and 
southern  lake  are  each  in  turn  invested  with  a  personality 
that  wins  our  instant  sympathy.  Rosalynde  Banderet  is 
winsome  and  artless,  her  lovers  are  human  and  manly, 
and  her  final  happiness  is  ours.  Mr.  Peirson's  many 
pictures  are  entirely  worthy. 

With  many  Illustrations  and  Decorations  by 
G.  Alden  Peirson 

Ornamental  i2mo.    Cloth  Bound,  $1.50 


The  Bowen-Merrill  Company,  Indianapolis 


ANOTHER  SUCCESSFUL  HISTORICAL 
NOVEL 


THE    BLACK 
WOLF'S    BREED 

By  HARRIS  DICKSON 


From  the  Boston  Globe  : 

"  A  vigorous  tale  of  France  in  the  old  and  new  world  during 
the  reign  of  Louis  XIV." 

From  the  Philadelphia  Press  : 

"  As  delightfully  seductive  as  certain  mint-flavored  beverages 
they  make  down  South." 

From  the  Los  Angeles  Herald : 

"  The  sword-play  is  great,  even  finer  than  the  pictures  in 
« To  Have  and  To  Hold.'  " 

From  the  San  Francisco  Chronicle: 

"  As  fine  a  piece  of  sustained  adventure  as  has  appeared  in 
recent  fiction." 

From  the  St.  Louis  Globe-Democrat : 

"  There  is  action,  vivid  description  and  intensely  dramatic 
situations." 

From  the  Indianapolis  News: 

"  So  full  offender  love-making,  of  gallant  fighting,  that  one 
regrets  it's  no  longer." 

Illustrated  by  C.  M.  Relyea.      Price  $1.50 


The  Bowen-Merrill  Company,  Indianapolis 


"IN  LONDON  OF  LONG  AGO" 

THE 
FICKLE  WHEEL 

By  HENRY  THEW  STEPHENSON 

In  this  tale  of  merry  England,  of  the  time  when 
Shakespeare  jested  and  Ben  Johnson  blustered,  Mr. 
Stephenson  has  painted  for  us  a  picture  informing  and 
above  all  entertaining.  His  is  not  a  story  of  counts 
and  crowns,  but  of  the  ever  interesting  common  people. 
Without  seeming  to  do  so  the  author  shows  us  many 
interesting  bits  of  the  life  of  the  day.  We  go  to  Paul's 
walk,  we  see  Shakespeare  play  at  the  Globe  theatre  and 
other  such  glimpses  of  old  time  London  are  deftly  added 
to  our  experiences.  Throughout  the  book  is  an  evanescent 
charm,  a  spirit  of  wholesome  gaiety.  It  is  well  worth  while. 

With  illustrations  by  C.  M.  Relyea 
Cloth,  Ornamental,  12  mo.     Price,  $1.50 

The  Bowen-Merrill  Company,  Indianapolis 


"DIFFICULT  TO   FORGET" 

A  FEARSOME 
RIDDLE 

By  MAX  EHRMAN 

This  mystery  story,  based  on  the  theory  of  the 
arithmetical  rhythm  of  time,  contains  much  of  the  same 
fascination  that  attaches  to  the  tales  of  Poe.  Simply 
told,  yet  dramatic  and  powerful  in  its  unique  conception, 
it  has  a  convincing  ring  that  is  most  impressive.  The 
reader  can  not  evade  a  haunting  conviction  that  this 
wonderful  experiment  must  in  reality  have  taken  place. 
Delightful  to  read,  difficult  to  forget,  the  book  must  evoke 
a  wide  discussion. 

With  Pictures  by  Virginia  Keep 
12  mo.     Cloth,  $1.00 

The  Bowen-Merrill  Company,  Indianapolis 


A  STORY  OF  THE   MORGAN   RAID, 
DURING  THE  WAR  tf  the  REBELLION 


THE 
LEGIONARIES 

By  HENRY  SCOTT  CLARK 


The  Mempbit  Commercial-appeal  sayi : 
"The  backbone  of  the  story  is  Morgan's  great  raid  —  one  of 
the  most  romantic  and  reckless  pieces  of  adventure  ever 
attempted  in  the  history  of  the  world.  Mr.  Clark's  descrip 
tion  of  the  Ride  of  the  Three  Thousand  is  a  piece  of  litera 
ture  that  deserves  to  live  ;  and  is  as  fine  in  its  way  as  the 
chariot  race  from  *  Ben  Hur.*  " 

The  Cincinnati  Commercial-Tribune  tayt  i 

"  '  The  Legionaries  *  is  pervaded  with  what  seems  to  be  the 
true  spirit  of  artistic  impartiality.  The  author  is  simply 
a  narrator.  He  stands  aside,  regarding  with  equal  eye  all 
the  issues  involved  and  the  scales  dip  not  in  his  hands.  To 
sum  up,  the  first  romance  of  the  new  day  on  the  Ohio  is  an 
eminently  readable  one  —  a  good  yarn  well  spun." 

The  Rochester  Herald  tayt : 

"The  appearance  of  a  new  novel  in  the  West  marks  an 
epoch  in  fiction  relating  to  the  war  between  the  sections  for 
the  preservation  of  the  Union.  'The  Legionaries*  is  a 
remarkable  book,  and  we  can  scarcely  credit  the  assurance 
that  it  is  the  work  of  a  new  writer." 

1 2mo,  illustrated        Price,  $1.50 


The  Bowen  -  Merrill  Company,  Indianapolis 


VIGOROUS,  ELEMENTAL,  DRAMATIC 

A   HEART 
OF  FLAME 

The  story  of  a  Master  Passion 

BY  CHARLES  FLEMING  EMBREE 

Author  of  "A  Dream  of  a  Throne." 


The  men  and  women  in  this  story  are  children  of  the 
soil.  Their  strength  is  tn  their  nearness  to  nature.  Their 
minds  are  vigorous,  their  bodies  powerful,  their  passions 
elemental,  their  courage  sublime.  They  are  loyal  in  friend 
ship,  persistent  in  enmity,  determined  in  purpose. 

The  story  is  a  story  of  great  wrongs  and  of  supreme  love. 
It  is  done  in  black  and  white,  with  few  strokes,  but  they  are 
masterly.  The  shadows  at  the  back  are  somber  but  the 
value  of  contrast  is  appreciated  for  the  vivid  high  light  in 
the  foreground. 

It  is  a  work  of  art— powerful,  convincing  and  abiding. 
Powerful,  because  true  to  life;  convincing,  for  it  has  the 
saving  touch  of  humo*;  and  abiding  because  love,  like  "A 
Heart  of  Flame,"  prevails  in  the  end. 

With  illustrations  by  Dan  Smith 
izmo.  cloth.    Price,  $1.50. 


The  Bowen-Merrill  Company,,  Indianapolis 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Form  L9-Series  4939 


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